


The Novaks

by Deadmockingbirds



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Alien Planet, Alternate Angel Lore (Supernatural), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Space, Anal Sex, Angel Wings, Archangels, Arranged Bonding, Arranged Marriage, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), BAMF Michael (Supernatural), Bonding, Brat Dean, Canon Divergent, Casual Violence, Corporal Punishment, Daddy Kink, Daddy issues for everyone, Danger Kink, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Domestic Violence, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone Has Issues, Extremely Dubious Consent, Feminization, Forced Bonding, Lots and lots of daddy kink, M/M, Mafia Castiel, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-con acts, Obedience, Other, Overprotective Michael, Polyamory, Protective Cas, Protective Michael (Supernatural), Space Drugs, Space Pirates, Spanking, Stern Castiel, Strapping, Strict Castiel (Supernatural), Submissive Sam Winchester, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Michael (Supernatural), Total Power Exchange, Violent Sex, but non-consensual, dominant behaviour, like really canon divergent, mentions of child-parent spankings, mentions of child-teen spankings, mentions of mpreg, non-con elements, parent/child discipline, questionable morals, space mafia, spanking implements, submissive behaviour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 46,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadmockingbirds/pseuds/Deadmockingbirds
Summary: Dean didn't ask to be born into one of the galaxy's oldest mafia families, but he was.  He's proud of that fact, he just wishes his life offered a little more freedom and well, it wouldn't hurt if he could find someway to make his strict father proud of him.  Everything changes when Dean's father gets rid of his usual security detail in exchange for just one, an Archangel named Michael.
Relationships: (Dad-son), Castiel & Dean, Castiel Novak/Sam Wincester, Castiel/Sam Winchester, Dean Novak/Michael, Dean/Constantine (OC), Dean/Michael, Dean/OCs - Relationship, Father-Son - Relationship, John Winchester/Mary Winchester, Sam & Dean
Comments: 304
Kudos: 309





	1. Meet the Novaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 25, 2020  
> _____________________
> 
> Hey all! Lookit me, another new work. I know. I _know_ what you're thinking, but I finish all my works eventually. This one _would not_ leave me and it had some feels I know everyone loves, so I'm posting. 
> 
> Please take the tags seriously. And in case it's missed (because I've had this happen) this is a dubious con and often non-con fic. If that is not for you, this is your chance to nope out. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Beyond lies what my admittedly deviant mind made up. I do not necessarily condone all actions, morals, and behaviours, however, a lot of it, wrong as it may be is my brand of kink. It is intended for kink and entertainment purposes only. I definitely don't teach life lesson around here. You are adults and I have faith in your adult choices. 
> 
> Now that's out of the way! My brain created this alien AU. I borrowed from other kinds of worlds, like the ABO world, even though this is NOT ABO. I even borrowed from some of my stories, because I'm allowed ;) I am having a lot of fun writing this, but it is very different than my usual, so take heed. 
> 
> I have a chapter of FHW and GUW almost ready to go, just gotta edit AND am going to work on my Lucius fic tonight! Looking forward to it.
> 
> And now, on with the Novak Space Mafia fun!

I know I’m in deep shit as soon as they approach me: Father’s personal bodyguards. “Sorry to interrupt Ser-Novak, but your father wants to see you.”

They’re polite, as if they’re asking me, as if they’re saying, “Hey Dean, we don’t mean to interrupt your game of High Rowdlan, we request that you come with us.”

They’re not. Father doesn’t _ask_ anything and if you don’t come when he fucking calls you, he’s creative with the consequences. The trouble is, I’m already in trouble. I’m off planet on my own for starters, which is _explicitly_ forbidden. Father doesn’t care that I’m well on my way to thirty, or how old I get. I’m born into _this_ family, my father will be the next head of the Aerian mafia when Grandfather passes on and I am forever bound by its limits, those limits being the ones Father sets. Even Dad doesn’t get to do what he wants. But unlike me, Dad is well-behaved, I’m a fucking brat.

I sigh and slide out from the table. “Sorry boys. Looks like I’ve hit curfew.”

It is a shady crowd, I’ll give Father that, but he’s the mafia, what does he expect…? Everyone around us is a shady crowd. “You’re not leaving without giving us your payout, Novak,” Ben says not giving a fuck about my title.

 _Son of a bitch._ I would have been leaving the table with twice that. If you leave before the end of a round, you owe the buy in, plus half, and I don’t play with small fish. I hand over my last fifty thousand quid on me and head to where Ray and Carson are. They grab me one on each side. “I’m not gonna run,” I tell them.

They ignore me though, following Father’s stupid no talking rule to the letter and I’m roughly escorted to the shuttle. Security in my father’s employ are not allowed to talk unless it’s strictly necessary. They may relay instructions, and use words in a few other instances, but no small talk and definitely no negotiating when it comes to me and what I want, against Father’s orders.

I’m tossed into the shuttle, “Hey watch it dude,” and we make good time back to Aeriania. We pull up to the loading bay which is where all aircraft, including shuttles dock at Novak Apartments, which has twelve hundred floors. We live in the penthouse, a large penthouse with two levels and a balcony. As soon as I’m manhandled in the door of said penthouse, Dad’s there, his facial features relaying consternation.

“Where have you been, young man?”

“I’m not that young, Dad.”

He gives no fucks. “Answer the question.”

I really don’t need Dad pissed at me too. “Off planet for a game of High Rowdlan.”

He’s not impressed. “Your father’s going to kick your ass and I’m going to let him. Come.”

 _Ugh._ I do, watching his long jacket whip behind him. Not all Aerian men can have babies, Dad can, he had me and it was somewhat of a miracle since it nearly killed him. It’s just one of the many reasons Father’s so protective. Not only am I his heir, but when I was an infant, I was sick and weak all the time; Dad says he’s still traumatized.

My stomach starts to sink as we get closer. As much as I put on airs of indifference, I’m most decidedly not indifferent. I care what Father thinks, I have serious Daddy issues and I strive for his approval. Which begs the question, _“Dean, why are you such a fucking, disobedient brat?”_

And so we have the nineteenth wonder of the galaxy.

When Dad and I are granted access to Father’s office, my stomach does a deeper dive. I should not have gone off planet and I should not have thwarted my security detail to do it.

_Not my fault I’m super handsome and they all eventually want to fuck me._

Father looks stressed, he always does, which means he’s rarely in a good mood. His hair is a mess - Dad always says it adds to his ambiance, which is Dad’s way of saying Father looks sexy; my parents are such fucking horn dogs - his tie is loose, and his shirt is ruffled.

When Dad walks in, Father can’t help himself, he leers at him and oh god, he’s turned on; I know it because I unfortunately know all too well the sexual escapades of my parents. Father doesn’t give a fuck. If he wants Dad, he will have him, and you can go fuck yourself if it bothers you. They would have had at least a dozen accidental children by now if Father hadn’t got himself fixed. After what Dad went through to have me, Father wasn’t taking any chances. Male pregnancies are even more dangerous than female ones. He wanted me, but he had concerns about Dad getting pregnant. Dad might be the only person who can convince Father to do anything, but after almost losing him, it was a firm no for more.

_I’m not sure I was worth it._

Dad blushes from the way Father is looking at him. I clear my throat. “I can go.” Because that would be fine with me. “You two can fuck like bunnies. Infinitely better than reaming me out.”

“I don’t think so. Sit,” Father says. Damn it. I drop into the black leather chair, huffing. “Sam, come here.”

Dad goes to him, Father pulls him into a kiss by the lapel of his long, black jacket. I guess in some ways, a guy could only be so lucky as to have his parents this into each other. I mean, they can fucking fight, Dad is no joke even if in the end, Father usually wins those. I’ve seen them beat the shit out of each other (which was not awesome when I was a kid; I learned to weather it), but they’re also addicted to the other and inseparable.

“Get Daddy some scotch, Baby,” he says to Dad. You’d think I’d be grossed out, but I’m too used to it by now and I’ve seen a lot of shit in this penthouse. He rounds on me and starts in, pealing off a long string of the angry, Old Aerian dialect the Novak family speaks, which is different from the one more commonly spoken Aerian in this part of Aeriania, known as Endelara. There are a lot of curse words, and other stuff that roughly translates to, _“You stupid boy. You’re going to get yourself killed. What will happen when you’re ass up like a whore for a gang of men taking turns, uh? Will you be arrogant boy then? Will you wish you obeyed Father then? You’ll be begging to die. Irresponsible boy! Ungrateful boy!”_

Each curse is accompanied by a hard _whack_ upside whatever he can catch; face, head, shoulder. I throw my hands up in front of my face to protect it, which only pisses him off more, making him whack in earnest, to catch an unprotected spot.

“Fuck. Ow! _Ow!_ I’m sorry.”

He finally stops his whacking, folding his arms over his chest. “No you’re not. What happened to Nicholas?”

I can’t help my smirk. Nicholas, one of my former security detail was ‘accidentally’ shipped off to Delour after a hot and steamy night with his charge. “That one’s on you, sir. If you’re going to give me easy prey like that.”

I expect the sharp backhand across the face, but it’s no less shocking. I adjust my jaw and wipe at the small amount of blood coming from my lip, as Dad hands Father his scotch, not feeling sorry for me. Father takes it, his eyes still glued to me. I get uncomfortable. _Okay Dean, maybe cool it on the snark, eh?_ “Nicholas wasn’t just crew, he was a contract, _lebishna_.” That’s Old Aerian for idiot. He says that a lot. “You’re going to get him back, or you’re really not going to like sitting for a very long time.”

“I’ll get him back sir, but c’mon. That guy’s a joke.”

He swirls the scotch. “He is no longer suitable and will be replaced. I have someone else in mind.”

Oh joy. But this is my life.

“Might I remind you that even I have security detail twenty-four-seven.”

“I remember, sir.” I even get it. The likelihood of me ending up in one of Father’s rival’s basements, being tortured, or fucked against my will is high. Forget Father’s rivals. I do plenty of shit on my own that’s cause enough for security detail. It just gets confining sometimes and I need a break. Plus, if I were in control of my security detail like Father is, it wouldn’t be as much of an issue, but Father doesn’t trust me to make decisions that won’t get me killed. This means all in employ for Dean’s security detail are under Si-Novak’s orders. They feel more like babysitters than security.

For the record, I would have gone to get Nicholas back at some point without Father’s urging. Where I left him isn’t exactly nice.

“Then grow up. I’m done with this. I’m taking more extreme measures. John will be here tomorrow with your new security detail and until that time, you’re not going anywhere. I mean it Dean, not one toe outside of the apartment. Am I crystal clear?”

I can’t help my excitement. Grampa Winchester might be a coarse son of a bitch, but he’s way too fucking cool not to idolize. “You’re clear sir.” But there is some apprehension too. “Who is this new guy? Some kind of monster?”

Grampa is a hunter, a bit more on the bounty hunter side of things. It’s not a totally altruistic venture. Nothing in our family is. Father smiles, but it’s not the kind of smile you want from him. It says, Dean Novak, you are royally fucked. “All of your former security detail has been strapped soundly and fired. The same will be done with Nicholas when he’s back. From now on, we will only need the one. He is an archangel.”

 _Just one?_ “An archangel? How the fuck did that come about?” Okay, this is bad. Like really fucking bad.

“Your grandfather is as interested in keeping your ass alive as we are, even if you’re not. You can thank Dad, he put in the call.”

I glare at Dad. Fucking traitor. “That still doesn’t answer my question.”

“Grampa knows the guy well and these are just the sort of jobs the angel looks for; something easy that pays well,” Father says.

“Easy? When there’s only going to be one of him?” Yeah, not the thing I should be focusing on, but I’ve grown up in one of the deadliest mafia families in the galaxy, I know a thing or two, thank you very much.

“Stop pouting. He’s an archangel,” Father repeats like that should explain everything.

I’m already planning a thousand ways to show them both. “Okay, fine. I have a new babysitter and don’t go anywhere ‘till he gets here. Can I go?”

“Oh no. I still have to make true on my promise. What did I say would happen if you were to disobey me on this matter again?”

“C’mon. I’m sorry.”

“Give me the key. _Now_.”

I would rather be strapped with his nasty, prison strap than give up my aircraft. She’s a beautiful, old, black Impala, a collector’s model from five thousand sixty-seven, which is why she still even has a launch key. But I reach into my pocket and pull out the launch key.

“I’m not opposed to turning it into scrap metal. If you want it back, you can earn it back. Furthermore, that’s the last fifty thousand quid you spend on a game of High Rowdlan. I’m reducing your allowance. If you need extra, ask Dad, who will ask me if he’s unsure of whatever ridiculous purchase you want to make,” he says glancing at Dad, who nods at him.

Fucking Ray ratted me out, didn’t he? That guy’s never liked me. In any case, I’m done with this conversation. “Yes, sir.”

“You’re fucking lucky I’m not your grandfather. He would have tied me to a post in the basement, whipped all the flesh off my back and left me there until I was begging for water.”

He’s not exaggerating. Grandfather Novak (Aryai-Novak), is fucking crazy, but it kind comes with the territory of being a Mob Boss. When I was five, there was an incident. I don’t remember it and I wouldn’t talk about it no matter how much Father threatened me – I’ve always been a stubborn shithead – but he never let me go back there alone, which is a fucking feat. When Grandfather Novak says jump, you say how high.

“Get the fuck out of my sight.”

God he’s an asshole sometimes, but I don’t need to be told twice. This day fucking sucks and I just want to relax. A nice hot bath, masturbate on my bed with some beer, is my plan, but none of that’s going to happen. When I arrive, there’s a naked man on my bed. “Oh fuck,” I say out loud.

“Nice. You forgot, didn’t you, asshole?”

I deserved that. “I did Baby, I’m sorry.”

He runs a hand through his hair, keeping his arrogant airs about him. Constantine is a Ferarrah, which means his family is super fucking rich. They are another branch of mafia, from Mor Town, which is on the other side of Aeriania. I mean, not as rich as mine, but pretty close. It’s enough to raise a spoiled brat like him anyway. His dick’s flagging and I catch the pained expression in his eyes he tries to erase quickly as he pulls on his pink silk robe. “Where have you been?”

“Duhanus.” I pull off my jacket.

His eyes widen. “But your father…” he trails off speechless, because most people have the sense to be terrified of my father. “Ah, that’s why your lip’s like that.”

It’s all tight now, crusted over with dried blood. “Took my fucking Impala and I’m not likely to get it back anytime this century. Plus, I’m poor now. He reduced my allowance, again, and made Dad gatekeeper.” Oh how I’d love to get my own job, and make my own money, but that is forbidden.

“I’ve got you covered, sweetheart. Come.”

Constantine is a lot smaller than I am, muscle-wise, but he’s as tall with lithe dancer’s muscles, and dancer’s muscles are no joke. He’s fucking strong with big shoulders. I go to him. “I’m off the hook already?”

“Not by a long shot, Novak. You don’t get to forget our anniversary without consequences. I’ll make you pay later. Right now, you need this. Take those off.”

I remove my pants, so I’ve got nothing on but a long-sleeved shirt and fall onto my bed with him. He puts my head on his chest. Constantine is my, well, my Constantine. We grew up together. Our families are close. We started doing things like ‘explore our bodies together’ young together and finally broke the seal sometime later when we were still probably too young. We do date, I have obligation to him, but we’re not exclusive. We do have an anniversary though, can’t remember when or why we started that, but I don’t _usually_ forget.

He grabs my dick. “Let me guess, you came here to drink beer, and masturbate.”

“Fuck, Connie. Warn a guy.” But I spread my legs and push my hips into his hand. “Yeah, but this is better.”

“You’re lucky that’s all you got,” Constantine says, speeding up his strokes, knowing what I like.

He’s witnessed some shit and it’s true, I’m kinda surprised Father didn’t pull out his implement of doom, but I wasn’t gonna ask and remind him. “Pretty sure he was really fucking, horny,” I say starting to pant. “He wanted me out of there as much as I did. I’ve been saved by my father’s dick once again.” Gross as that sounds, it’s true. Sometimes my father’s just too horny to deal with me and I’m more than okay with that.

He laughs. “I don’t doubt it.”

Constantine has a free pass to be here. All of security knows him and he’s practically a nephew to my parents, but I don’t prefer to think of him as ‘like a cousin’, since he usually has his hand on my dick at some point. We grew up together and therefore he’s seen my parents fucking almost as much as I have.

They don’t wait on anybody, except maybe my grandparents. And that’s only sometimes.

He brings me to a nice slow orgasm, stroking me softly ‘till I dribble, using some slick from my ass when I start to get wet, then alternates between stroking me fast and slow, fast and slow until I come all over his hand. Then we take turns fucking each other. When we’re both spent, I lay with him on my chest, stroking my fingers through his blonde hair.

“I’m hungry, Novak. The least you owe me is food. Go.”

“Fuck. Fine.” I put on my grey robe, but _fuck_ doing it up. This is a house of dudes anyway. I make my way down to the kitchen where Dad’s doing the same, getting food for him and Father.

“ _Dean,_ do that up. If your father walks in here...”

“When is it I’m allowed to move out again?” I say pulling it closed around me, tying it shut. It’s a rhetorical question of course, there’s no moving out for me. “You’re always naked.”

“You’re his son, you have different rules. C’mere _Baba Sho Shiva_ ,” he says, using an Old Aerian endearment he learned from Father. It means he recognizes me as his first born, of his womb and a great blessing. It’s the _Mother, Birthing Dad_ version; there’s also one that’s specific from Father to child. He pulls me into a hug and kisses my head. My Dad. Tougher than Aerian steel: will hug recalcitrant adult son on any whim. He whacks my ass, hard. “He’s only looking out for you.”

Dad releases me and digs into the fridge, passing me a couple of beer. “Does he always have to be such an asshole doing it?”

Dad raises both eyebrows, his forehead creases to the max. “Do you really need to ask?”

We both know being an asshole comes naturally to Father, not even Dad will deny it. “No. I just, I wanna be a space pirate, Dad.” Grampa Winchester is essentially a space pirate. When I was little, I would follow him around when he’d visit like a shadow.

He laughs, running a hand through my hair. Dad knows what it’s like to be me. Grampa’s less stringent with me, but he was fucking rough to grow up with for Dad. Gramma Winchester died in a demon fire when Dad was four, which kickstarted Grampa’s hunting career. Dad had to grow up fast and Grampa didn’t give him time to adjust either. It was survive or die. How Dad ended up with any amount of warmth in him _and_ a sense of humor, I’ll never know. I like to think I have Dad’s sense of humor too and that it’s why Father loves us so much.

I’m not dumb enough to think Father doesn’t love me, otherwise he wouldn’t give a flying fuck about what I do, but love isn’t the same as pride. I want to do something, to show I’m worthy, but it’s kinda hard when he won’t let me do anything that’s typically deemed worthy, like go to post-secondary, or have a career. “Sorry Dean. Grampa’s the only space pirate in this family.” His phone buzzes on the counter. “Shit. Been gone too long. I gotta go.”

Dad kisses my head. It doesn’t matter how old I get, he’ll always do stuff like that. I don’t know what Dad was like before he had me, but I know that men reach reproductive maturity later than women do and it changes their hormones some. It’s a thing that can happen to any of us, we’re all born with the equipment, so to speak, but not all of us present. In other words, some of us have factories that never turn on. If they do, it happens anywhere from twenty to forty. Men usually only get about twenty to thirty reproductive years, sometimes less. Regardless, after, they are left with some effects of the hormones previously considered female, before this advent in Aerian evolution.

In other words, Dad has a small nurturing side and he does stuff like that, can’t even help it. But it never stopped him from beating the fucking shit out of me that time I bought a hooker when I was sixteen.

I grab a bottle of wine out of the fridge for Connie, collect some food and head back to him. “Look, expensive, wine.” When he doesn’t eye it with the usual zest I’m used to, I worry. “Something wrong… shitty vintage, or something?”

He shakes his head. “I waited ‘till tonight to tell you, please don’t be mad.”

“Seriously dude, you’ve got to say it and say it quickly.” I don’t have patience for stuff that sounds fucking worrisome. I’m like Father that way.

“You look like your father when you say that,” he says.

See? “ _Dude!_ ”

“Fine, I’m pregnant, Dean. Don’t worry, it’s not yours,” he adds when he sees I’m freaking the fuck out inside.

“I didn’t even know you presented.”

“I know, look I wanted to tell you, but well I know what you’re like.”

“This is fucking bullshit, Constantine.” I feel like I don’t even know him.

“See.”

“I could have accidentally gotten you pregnant at any time. I had the right to know.” A man getting pregnant isn’t always a joyous time. It’s terrifying. We lose more men who have babies than we don’t. Not to mention, I’m so not ready for a kid right now.

“No. I took precautions. Whenever I came here, to be with you, I put a protective birth control device inside. One from the doctor.”

“Whose is it?” I’m going to rip their fucking head off. As much as I fault Father for his possessiveness when I’m on the receiving end, I’m not different. Yeah Constantine and I aren’t exclusive, but I kinda, sorta thought maybe we’d have or adopt a kid someday in a casual sort of way. We grew up in this life together, we’re best suited for having a kid we can fuck up together.

“Well mine, duh.”

“Don’t fuck with me. You know what I mean.”

“Dean, please calm down. You’re scaring me.”

“Tell me. _Now._ ”

“Rylan.”

“He’s a dead man.” I pick up my phone. It’s the matter of a call.

Constantine tackles me, swiping the phone from my hand, which goes flying off into the distance. He squeezes me around the torso with his strong dancer’s legs. “Dean, I’m not very far along. This isn’t good for the baby. _Please_.”

I can’t calm down, but it is something that stops me losing it like I want to. “You need to leave.”

He starts fucking crying. Constantine’s not quick to crying. Maybe it’s the _fucking_ baby. “Dean please. I can’t lose you. You’re important to me.”

“So important, you can’t fucking tell me when your whole-body changes and you decide to get knocked up?” Because clearly it was planned. “And why not me, eh? Why fucking Rylan?”

“There’s no way your father was going to allow that. If you have a baby, or adopt a baby, or anything, he’ll be the one saying when, where, and with who.”

I shove him off me. “Get the fuck out.”

“Dean. You know it’s true and even without all that, you’re so not ready for something like this… are you?”

“I guess you’ll never fucking know. Get out, now. I mean it.” I’m doing everything not to let my fist land in his face.

He’s known me a long time, he knows where I’m at and how far to push me. Wisely, he starts packing his things, putting clothes on. But I remember, he’s got a lot of his shit here. “Take it all with you. All of it,” I growl wanting him to hurt as much as this hurts me.

He’s crying harder now. “I’ll come back when you’re calm. We’ll talk about this. _Please._ ”

“No you won’t.” And then I lose it. He’s the one who wouldn’t fucking leave. Anything in view that’s his, I pick it up and start throwing out the door. “Take your fucking shit and never come back.”

As I keep finding stuff and throwing it out the door, he finds his long coat and throws it around him. In my madness I see his eyes look to something, think better of whatever he was going to do and then he runs off, without any shoes. But before he does, I see his face and the look there might haunt me the rest of my life. His eyes are wide and wet, he’s stunned, and it’s like I can feel his heart-breaking.

I’m too mad to care though. When he’s finally gone, I go back into my room and slam the door. I proceed to drink everything – the beer and the wine – and pass out, crushing the rose petals beneath me.

~Earlier~

Our son storms out and now I’m going to have to deal with Cas about that. “That’s your fault,” he says. “You coddle him.”

“I didn’t say a word. I’m pissed at him too; woulda liked to say many words.” Cas is Mr. Hard-as-Steel, but I’m the son of John Winchester and that brings with it some amount of ferocity.

“I don’t mean now, I mean in general. Take your pants off.”

I still look around; I can’t help it. We’ve been together a lot of years now, other people seeing us doesn’t faze me as much as it used to, but there’s just enough feeling about it left to make it _shameful_ , which gets my cock hard. “Jacket too?” I say undoing my pants.

“Did I say your jacket?”

 _Ass._ “No.”

“Excuse me?” He raises a brow; he’s not being playful. This is going to be, ‘take-out-my-frustrations-sex.’ But with Cas, there’s always an element of control he needs.

“No Daddy.” I take my pants off and sling them over the chair, he leers at me. I’ve still got my underthings on.

“Sit in that chair, take your cock out.” Cas undoes a few buttons of his shirt, but that’s as far as he goes.

“ _Cas._ ”

“I can make this worse for you.”

He really can, he’s had his men hold me down before. Fuck, _that voice_ , it sinks into me, peaking my arousal. Pretty sure it can convince me to do near anything. I pull out my cock. I have to say, most of Cas’s kinky little plans, end up fun for me. _Most._ That’s not guaranteed. Sometimes they’re just fun for him. _Sigh._ But either way, I’m going to do it, not just because there are consequences for not, but I’m a sucker for him. I live to please the dick and there’s a lot of enjoyment from me for that much of it.

He leans against his desk. Fuck. He’s so hot like that, his hair a mess in just the right way, his shirt open how I like, I can feel myself getting wet. “You getting horny for Daddy, baby?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, Daddy.” I don’t know how he does it. He hasn’t even touched me yet. Cas is my ultimate type though.

“Reach inside, get some slick and play with your cock. I want to watch.”

I’ve done this a lot, like, a lot, _a lot_ and it never fails to turn me on when he stares at me all sultry like that. I start panting heavy, I can feel my orgasm building, but we have rules and I know I won’t be allowed to come like this. I come on his cock, or not at all, unless I have very special permission. “D-Daddy, I’m getting close.”

On another kind of day, Cas might torture me for longer, but he’s been hardcore aroused since I walked in here. I knew he wouldn’t take long getting his cock into my ass. “Stop. _Now_ you may take your jacket off, take everything off.”

When I’m naked, he manhandles me so I’m over the desk. “Spread your legs for Daddy, baby.” As I do, I hear the sound of his belt being unbuckled and his zipper opening. Knowing he’s going to remain dressed, while I’m fully naked ratchets my arousal, I feel myself leaking down my legs. He roughly shoves his cock into me and starts drilling _hard._

There’s a lot of sensation. Ever since I had Dean, my prostate has increased in sensitivity, which has helped tremendously in the orgasms department. I’m almost overwhelmed by it, but it feels too fucking good. I’m pushing back needy, desperate, as he grips my hips with his strong hands, and continues to fuck into me, his fingers pressing into bruises from last night.

Cas is angry today, last night he was feral. Dean has no idea how much restraint Cas was strong-arming when he lectured him; restraint he didn’t exercise with me. But fuck if I’m not greedy for it. I feel slick sliding down my legs, and I moan, making a whole host of pleasurable noises. Someone knocks on the door. “Come in,” Cas says, not stopping, not missing a beat. I don’t worry about whoever it is. Cas fucks into me as the man – sounds like Carl the accountant – asks Cas whatever needs to be asked. Don’t really hear; don’t really care.

Cas fucking into me is a sight they’re used to seeing, anyway. As far as Cas is concerned, he doesn’t see anything wrong with getting work done and fucking me at the same time. “Come for Daddy,” I hear in my ear.

And I do, all over his desk. _Is Carl still here?_ It’s a late thought, because if he was, he just saw the money shot, but as it turns out he’s not.

And Cas isn’t done. It’s like, my orgasm gave him that extra power hit, to drill me harder. He’s fucking into me with determination, I start building to yet another orgasm there’s no way I’m going to be allowed. Cas doesn’t give out orgasms for free. I’ve been good, so fucking good, which is why I got the one.

I’m thinking of anything and everything unsexy I can, (slugs, Dad in the shower, clowns) to stave off my second impending orgasm, but if Cas doesn’t come soon, it’s happening. I’m screaming and begging and saying a lot of words that make no sense, because as much as this is torture, it’s perfect torture; it feels so fucking good.

Finally, I feel him come in my ass, along with his telltale moan, one that’s almost primal. I think Cas might have been an animal in another life. Obviously, a predator; pick one. When he pulls out, I feel a nasty combination of slick and his come leaking down my legs and I have to bang my fist on the desk, willing my hard-on to go the fuck away. But it’s going to be the hard-on from the underworld for a while. I might need a cold shower. I shut my eyes tightly and attempt ‘normal’ conversation. “What did Carl want?”

I hear Cas do up his pants. “I had to okay the payment to Michael.”

Cas is paying a premium for this guy. Dean has no idea how much Cas worries about him; he assumes his father wants to control his life. And he’s not wrong, Cas unabashedly controls his life, but it’s also fear. Dean’s his baby boy even if he’s almost thirty. Cas doesn’t do well with fear.

He slaps my ass. “Up Sam.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, I rise, trying to make sure my cock doesn’t touch anything. I’m still not out of the woods. I contemplate my clothes, they’ll get wet, but it wouldn’t be the first time. Cas isn’t done with me. He pulls me to him for a kiss. “Problem, Baby?” He’s smirking.

I lay my head on his shoulder. “I have the hard-on from the underworld, Cas.”

“Awww, be a good boy and perhaps I’ll be feeling generous later.”

 _Patronizing asshole._ He smacks my ass and grabs it, which does not help my raging boner. It’s unfair. I’m wet and wrecked, and still horny, yet Cas manages to look put together even if he’s down a tie, which I’ve heard said is telltale to his crew that we’ve fucked. But he’s relaxed now and I’m all about that. Cas moves to the papers at his desk as I dress and I can’t help staring in awe of him. With Cas it’s his powerful energy that gets me. Only he can consume me like he does. Yeah, he’s a hard and often cold man, but he’s fierce about the ones he loves and that redeems him for me.

He’s intelligent above and beyond most people, he sees the world from a different angle and acts accordingly. His childhood was fucking heartbreaking and he’s a product of that, the world is a dark and scary place in his mind. It’s kill or be killed.

“Where will you be?” he asks, like he can’t _just_ locate me wherever I am. He can. Couldn’t run from him if I wanted to, and I don’t for the record.

“Shower. I’ll keep an eye out for Dean,” I say, knowing that will make him feel better.

“That boy needs a good strapping. I’m a hair away from shipping him off to live with my father for a little while. He’d learn some things,” he says adding a curse in Old Aerian.

Cas says that a lot, he’ll never do it.

Dean is _Baba Shi Shiva_ , which is an Old Aerian endearment used for a Father to recognize his first born, his heir and prized blessing. It’s not an obligation to use such a moniker. Our people, especially people like Castiel Novak, only do such things if we’re drawn to energetically. When Dean was born, Cas bonded to him immediately. Cas fell in love at first sight with Dean and no one can tell me differently even if the pair does have a tumultuous relationship.

And Cas never said much about it, but there was an incident when Dean was five. Cas and I picked Dean up from Salz and Abigal Novak’s house. Dean was distraught. He ran to Cas and latched onto him. Cas has one rule above all: You do not fuck with his people. With Dean, he doesn’t even care if Dean’s the instigator. You lay a finger on him, you’re dead. No questions asked.

When Dean ran to him like that, terrified, Cas became murderous. He kneeled down, letting Dean hug him around his neck and whispered a bunch of Old Aerian endearments to him. _“Baba, baba, baba. Baba Shi Shiva. Don’t cry. Father makes it better. Who must I end?”_

Later, Cas tried to get out of Dean what happened. Dean wouldn’t say no matter how much Cas threatened him, but we both knew it was bad. Dean’s never scared easy. We wished many times he would, since he lives in a dangerous world. Dean would not tell Cas, or me, not for anything. But after that, Cas made sure Dean was never there alone again, which was no easy feat, not when Cas cannot refuse his father. Somehow, Cas did it.

Dean ended up home schooled by yours truly, after an incident with another parent when Dean was in first grade and really it was for the best. Dean came home with bruises all over his torso. Dean was lipping off some kid, and it led to brawling. Dean was the one who ended up the victor in that one, it really was a case of, ‘you should have seen the other guy’, six-year-old Dean kicked the shit out of the other six-year-old boy.

But you don’t lay a finger on Castiel Novak’s son, and he’s fine to make an example of you. Cas stormed over to the school and beat the little guy’s dad nearly to death. Charges were laid, Cas got out of said charges – Cas owns the police and the judicial system, unofficially – but he wasn’t satisfied and pulled Dean out of that school immediately.

A similar thing happened later when Dean was in high school. Dean whined enough to me, that I mistakenly convinced Cas – not easy to do – to allow Dean to attend a high school versus homeschooling. Dean has a mouth on him (gee, wonder where he gets that from…?) and that time he came home with a black eye, _that time_ , Cas lost it on the teenager who gave Dean the black eye. 

After that, even Dean agreed school was just a bad idea.

Cas never changed a single one of his diapers, but you don’t fuck with this kid or you’ll live to regret it – that’s his role.

“We really should think about someone for Dean,” I say, trying to broach the topic now, so that Dean can think about getting a partner sometime in the next decade. It’s a dangerous topic. Whoever Dean ends up with is going to need to be half as dangerous as Cas.

“Fuck off, Sam.”

I shrug. “Dean needs someone to balance him.”

“No.” His gaze is piercing, I drop it.

My dad wasn’t much different, until Cas.

I pull on my jacket, my dick is finally calming down, but I’m going to need that shower. I swoop in to kiss Cas, who’s shorter than me, but it never feels that way. Cas always feels big to me. I fluff my jacket and try to kiss him as passion-filled as he kisses me. “Love you, _Brava_.” Brava, an Aerian term of endearment for the Head of House meaning; my lover, my soul, Master of my heart, Alpha.

“Love you, _Svenska_.” For my heart; my treasure, meant for the Taken-in-Hand, or submissive partner.

I’m still wet and horny but I feel like a million gold pieces as I stroll through our large apartment. Michael will be here tomorrow and as much as some apprehension comes with that, it will bring Cas some peace, knowing there’s finally someone powerful enough to protect Dean from the dangerous that await him, and himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mock's Blog: [Oct 25 2020](http://dmockingbirds.com/2020/10/25/oct-25-2020/)


	2. Enter Michael

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 31, 2020  
> _____________________
> 
> Happy Halloween everyone! I am so excited that I have people along for this ride. 
> 
> And yes, I know I'm just a little past Halloween, but still! Okay. I need sleep. Off to bed. Enjoy!

I wake up with a splitting headache and rose petals in my mouth. “Ppppththt.” It all comes rushing back to me. I lost my best friend last night, because he’s a fucking liar. How can I ever trust him again?

I check my communicator and there are like a thousand messages from said _ex_ -friend. I delete them without ever looking at them. He’s done. He’s out. He can go have his damn baby. I wish I could roll over and sleep forever, but that’ll never happen. I’m not _allowed_ to miss breakfast. To avoid the embarrassment of Father’s men dragging me out in the buff, I force myself to shower and dress and then drag myself down to the kitchen.

Mimi and Len are there, they keep all of us in the penthouse fed. Mimi is the wife of one of Father’s men. Len is Mimi’s son, he’s my age. We know each other, but we’re not really friends. I’m only allowed to get so friendly with the staff and I really need to pick my fucking battles. I let them serve me coffee how they know I like it but wait for my parents a bit before I eat. I don’t wait forever, sometimes they don’t come down ‘till much later, and sometimes they’ve already left. But I know they’ll be here today.

They arrive at breakfast, dressed and ready. Father prefers black slacks and white, long-sleeved, button-ups with his blue tie, Dad has his usual black leather pants with white tank, the ensemble he wears his long, black leather jacket over.

I can tell I’m still in Father’s bad boy books and I really should start sucking up if I want the Imapla back, but I’m in a fucking pissy mood myself. As hurt and mad as I am, I hold off telling Father about the situation with Constantine for his protection. One does not just tell their mafia dad things like this. It’s hard to say what he’ll do about it and I don’t know if Connie’s told his parents yet. It hits me what risk he took, even with that much of it, let alone tell me. His family, like mine, has a strict no babies out of partnership rule.

“When do they get here?” I ask, reaching for a few slices of toast when Mimi sets the plate down.

“In an hour. You look like shit. I hope you’re not pouting,” Father says.

I don’t bother answering that. I’m too hungover for bullshit. _Fuck him._

“What was all the commotion last night? Security said you were yelling at Constantine, they didn’t think it was serious,” Dad says.

Not serious in terms a life or death, no. Which is what _serious_ means around here. “We had a fight, I kicked him out. For good.”

“What happened?” Dad asks.

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

“ _Dean._ ”

“Leave him, Svenska.”

Dad does, he won’t disobey Father in front of people. There’s still the chance he could pursue me later, but whatever, I’m not talking about it. We’re nearing the end of breakfast when Grampa’s arrival is announced and he strides in, on sturdy legs. I look longingly as his casual jeans, something forbidden in this house. Dad used to dress like that too, long before I was born. Old photos of Dad show him wearing jeans like Grampa. Everything about Grampa is casual though, even the way he carries himself at least on the outside. I know Grampa waits on the things he can, so he can calculate, but acts quickly when he needs to.

Like cleaning his firearm. I remember many times sitting up as long as Dad would let me, while Grampa polished his gun, cleaning out the inside, looking down the barrel and then cleaning again. He’d whistle a slow melody, for all the world calm as an Aerian pond. _Focused._ If you didn’t know him better, you’d think he wasn’t paying attention to anything else, but he was always paying attention to everything, which is why I liked to test him.

I’d try to do things like reach over, ever so carefully and take one of his precisely laid out items on the small table. “ _Dean,_ ” he’d growl and I’d snatch my hand away like I’d touched fire, even though I didn’t have the chance to touch a thing. Didn’t matter what angle I approached from, or how quiet I was, he always knew.

Sometimes I got to stay with Grampa, if Dad had something to do for Father. When I’d act up, he was very matter of fact about it. He wouldn’t lecture, or make a big to-do, he’d simply grab me, pull down my pants and spank my ass, without ever saying more than a few words, because he knew, I knew what it was for. If he was spanking me, it was because I’d done something he’d clearly labelled as forbidden. But I’m Dean Novak and I have to test. I don’t know why, but I do.

In any case, Grampa established himself early on as a firm presence in my life and I feel it when he walks into the room. I also lift inside, because I like when he’s around, even if he’s sided with my parents on this stupid bodyguard thing. I’m not too worried about it though. I’m good at slipping through the fingers of whoever my parents toss at me. Archangel? New challenge!

“Hey Grampa,” I say, smiling.

“Howdy, Dean. Sam. Castiel.” I love how taciturn he is. I wish I were as cool as that.

“Hey Dad,” Dad says.

“John,” Father greets.

“Left him out there, thought I’d have coffee first.” Mimi’s already getting a cup poured for him, she knows what he likes in it. “Thank you, dear.”

“Hey Gramps.” Like I tend to do with Grampa, I peal off a detailed account of my adventures since I last saw him, like I’m five-years-old again, chattering away, including my thoughts on everything and anything. He puts up with me, like he does, never getting exhausted. Grampa doesn’t always respond, even with body language, something he’s trained himself to do which comes in handy in his line of work, but I know he’s listening. When I’m done, he nods. “Next time you’re over, I’ve got something new to show you,” he says.

“Really?” I glance to Father to see his reaction to that. He doesn’t always like the _new_ things Grampa shows me, but Grampa doesn’t give a fuck. He’s somewhat protected from Father’s ire because he’s Dad’s Dad and because Father has enormous respect for him. He tends to let most things Grampa does go.

Father’s eyes are cool, but that doesn’t mean anything. He actually looks pretty chill for him, as he squeezes Dad’s hand and rubs his thumb over Dad’s knuckles.

Dad’s entertained. He loves watching me with Grampa. He says Grampa wasn’t always this content and that having a grandson tempered him some. Sometimes, he can’t believe how much.

“Really. I’m around next week. Have Michael bring you over.” He sips his coffee.

Oh right, _Michael_. My expression sours. “Hey Meems, could I have more coffee please?” I ask. She brings more coffee for everyone; my hangover finally starts to recede.

“Go wait in my office,” Father says to both me and Dad when we’re done.

That’s when I start to feel the anger and the indignation about the whole thing. Sure Father has security detail, but he’s in charge of them. “Dean, don’t,” Dad says when we get to his office. “This is happening, it always will happen, you need to learn to accept it and stop throwing fits. In case you haven’t noticed, your father is unhappy with you.”

“I’ve noticed,” I say slinging myself down in a chair, crossing my arms. “He makes it fucking difficult though. I feel suffocated. You think he would let me stay with Grampa for a bit if stupid Michael comes?”

Dad sighs and it’s a fucking heavy sigh which means he gets me, he feels for me, but there’s no way he can _make_ that happen. “Let _me_ ask him. Things are not safe right now, Dean.”

“Even with Grampa?”

He pauses, because Grampa is a pretty safe fucking place and he knows it. “Your father does not like his _Baba Shi Shiva_ too far, for too long when it’s this chaotic in the galaxy. He doesn’t like me too far for too long either. It’s not just you. It’s the way _Baba_ is.”

“Yeah.” I give up on it for now. “What do you think about this whole Michael thing? For real.”

He’ll stand with Father, there’s no question, but he might have other thoughts about it. “I wish you’d respected your other security detail. I’m uneasy about an archangel in our home, but if Grampa Winchester is okay with it, I trust him. I want you safe too. You’ve been reckless, Dean.”

His pained expression kinda kills me a bit. I don’t mean to be such a shit. “I’m sorry, _Baba-Sho._ ”

Dad glances to the door briefly. “C’mere.” I stand up and he hugs me to him. “Please try with Michael, okay?”

“I’ll try.”

We part quickly when we hear them approaching. Father storms in first and he’s got blood on his white shirt. Castiel Novak is already a terrifying son of a bitch, the blood on him makes him look like a warning, especially when it’s not his blood. In his hand is something I’ve never seen before. It’s a long-bladed knife with a shiny handle. It’s hard to tell what the blade is like, because it’s covered in blood. Father drops it unceremoniously onto his desk and even I’m not going be my normal-belligerent-self when he’s got that look on his face.

The room takes on cool doom and the one who has to be Michael walks in strong, like he’s not leaking blood everywhere. It drips from his chest in a mess down to the hem of his pants, which are made for travel, not the usual security detail uniform.

He’s got a long black jacket, like really long, all the way to his ankles and it billows wide. The jacket has a hood and I could see him spending long nights in the rain with that hood pulled over him, making him a darker figure than he already is. There are buckles, so many buckles down the front of it, all undone, flopped to the sides. A large belt would normally cinch the jacket tight, but it too is open and hanging. On the back of the jacket is some kind of holy symbol for our God, Aro.

I’m stunned for a moment from the power of him, I have to collect myself and hide the shiver that goes through me. He’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before and I understand why Father only needs him this time. He’s not just security detail, he’s a mercenary. He sets his blue eyes on me momentarily and I think I’m going to puke, but quickly, they’re back on Father. Grampa takes a position behind Michael which is deliberate. _Grampa suggested this guy, why’s he acting so protective?_

“Show him,” Father commands.

Michael unbuttons his shirt and carved onto his bleeding skin are symbols I don’t recognize. Something happens in my chest. I think my heart squeezes. I don’t like him bleeding like that, not to mention it was my father who did it. “That is a spell,” Father says. “He will be loyal to our family.”

My jaw is still on the floor. Is that really necessary? But I don’t ask. Father is not to be fucked with right now, like the blood has made him feral.

Michael doesn’t seem bothered by his chest bleeding all over the place, except for that it’s getting on the floor. “May I heal this, sir? I’m making a mess.”

Father nods.

There’s a burst of blue light and everything heals, even his clothes repair and his jacket closes up tightly. He’s well-put-together again and _wow_ , his dark hair, all disheveled like that, which he left a mess. It fans across his forehead, long on top and the way it’s cut compliments his firm jaw. I can’t stop staring and realize I’m beginning to breathe harder.

“This is Dean, your charge. Dean, he has been instructed to watch you twenty-four-seven. He may have breaks upon request, and when you’re home, he’s been told he is not required to be glued to you, but you will not leave this apartment without him.”

Okay that’s fucking dumb. “What? _Baba,_ that’s overboard even for you.”

His mouth forms a line and both eyebrows raise. “I don’t care.”

I clench my jaw shut, frustrated as hell, but I won’t throw a fit. _I won’t._

“When you need privacy, you may send him away, but he will remain somewhere nearby and he will decide if it is safe to do so, not you. He’s also been informed of the rules and has been instructed to use whatever means necessary to make you comply. I have given him a few limits, but there aren’t many. I would obey him if I were you.”

I glare at Father. This is bullshit. I cross my arms, the leather of my jacket creaks.

“Now that you have Michael’s protection, you can go collect Nicholas. Don’t come home without him. Understood?”

“Yes sir.”

Dad’s looking over Michael and I _think_ he approves, but there’s still a little hesitation there. Grampa hasn’t relaxed yet, which makes me nervous and probably doesn’t help Dad’s nerves either. “Cas, you’re absolutely sure about this?” Dad says.

“What are you thinking? That I would _allow my son to be given over to someone, unworthy_?” he snaps, switching to Old Aerian part way through.

Fuck. That’s a fight. Father doesn’t like his decisions questioned. He takes it real personal, especially when it’s Dad doing the questioning, because he cares about having Dad’s good opinion. I’d rather them fuck than fight. But I know if Dad’s said anything like that at all, it’s because of whatever he’s reading off me. “No, Cas. But he’s going to be with Dean a lot.”

Father’s anger rises, his upper lip curling. If he were an animal, he’d be snarling. Dad’s not supposed to elicit these reactions from Father, that’s my job. I don’t want them fighting. Last time, I had to try breaking them up. Try, because I was unsuccessful. I nearly lost my hand. I reassure Dad, I’m okay. “Don’t worry, Dad. Michael and I are gonna be pals, aren’t we Michael?”

The angel looks at me coolly, ignores me and answers Dad. “If I do anything that is considered against orders, Si-Novak can punish me with that and I assure you, it is not pleasant.”

Dad’s gone quiet though. He’s crossed the line with Father and wishes he hadn’t. Grampa finally relaxes and so do I. Dad doesn’t, glancing nervously to Father from time to time. I think he’s less worried about Michael though and more worried about dealing with Father later, but Father softens marginally, very marginally. It’s so small, only people like me and Dad can tell. “ _Baba Shi Shiva, come._ ” Old Aerian is the oddest language. It ranges from sounding harsh and angry, to romantic when he’s talking to Dad sometimes and then super soft with me on occasion.

I go to him, still fucking pissed, but I’m such a sucker when he gets like this. He grips my face between his bloody hands. “ _Does he worry you Baba, Baba?_ ” Father says quietly in Old Aerian. “ _I will protect you._ ”

Ugh. Father’s a crazy mother fucker, but it’s his version of caring. “ _No, Baba. I trust you to protect me,_ ” I answer in Old Aerian. Not that I think he _needs_ to protect me, but Dad’s right, this is what he knows.

He pulls my head in and kisses it. Getting kissed on the head by a Mafia head, even when it’s your father is considered a great honor. I let my anger cool some. I’m sure it will be back, it always comes back, but Father is so rarely like this, I suck it up. “Behave for him, Dean,” he says switching back to Common Aerian.

“What am I allowed to take to pick up Nicholas? And he’s off planet by the way.”

Father wrinkles his nose. He’s not fond of me being off planet. “Nothing. A driver will take you both.” It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. “You are both dismissed.”

I soothe myself by remembering I’ve never had sex with an angel and now’s my chance. Michael is easy on the eyes if you know what I’m saying. “Are you staying, Grampa?”

“’Fraid not. Come next week.”

I nod and he puts his hand on my shoulder. I walk out of the office, Michael follows. He doesn’t follow long though, before he passes me and is in the lead. “Come with me, Ser-Novak,” he says like he’s the boss of me.

Even though I’m not cleared to participate in big jobs, I still get a rank, because I’m son to the Si and grandson of the Aryai. I’m in charge, at least to some degree and buddy is not giving me near the respect I’m _owed_. “Whoa there pal, I don’t _go_ with you, you _come_ with me. We have a, uh, mission to attend to.”

He rounds on me, slamming me into the wall, his hand flat against my chest. _Is it weird that my dick is hard?_ “I am aware of what we’re going to do, I have been briefed. We’re off to correct your last act of disobedience, which will truly be your _last_ act, I promise you. But first, I am going to enlighten you as to what I expect and there is something we must do. Come,” he says taking his hand off me and walking down the hall like he owns the place.

Holy shit. I’m fucking stunned. _Do I really follow him though?_ I feel like that gonna set the wrong precedence. “I don’t fucking think so, dude. You’re coming with me.” And if he thinks he’s slamming me into the wall again, he has another thing coming.

When he turns back my way, seeing that I’m not going to comply, he walks to me in a calm way, in no fucking hurry. Yes, I’m already regretting being a lippy, little shit. “Okay, man. Whoa, let’s just talk about this.”

He doesn’t talk. He grabs me and flips me over his shoulder. “No. No! Michael, you will _not_ do this. Bad, _bad_ archangel. Let me down.”

But he doesn’t and he’s _strong_ , like we’re talking really fucking strong and there is no way I’m busting out of his grip. Doesn’t mean I don’t try. I kick and I pound on his back. He _actually_ hauls off and slaps my ass. “Calm down, now.”

 _Ow!_ That hurt. Tears sting my eyes. “Fuck you, let me down.” He’s not going to though and I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but, “Wait until my father hears about this. I can’t wait to see him stab you with that mini-sword thing!” And to think I felt sorry for him and his bleeding chest.

As he carries me, over his shoulder, in the direction _he_ wanted to go, we pass some of Father’s men and they can barely conceal their laughter. It’s fucking embarrassing. “I’ll remember that Frank! Eddie!” _Just wait until I get down from here._

I stop squirming though, because there’s no point and it only draws more attention than we’re already garnering. Instead of heading toward the loading bay where all the drivers are, he brings me to my room. _How the fuck did he know where my room was?_ He throws me on the bed. “Sit.”

The room is clean now, clear of rose petals, the cleaning staff having already been here. I’m fuming as he heads over to my closet. “What the fuck, dude? You’d better start talking _right_ now, or I’ll murder you myself.” I move to get up, he looks at me, his eyes shining with that blue stuff he used to heal himself and I think better of moving.

He returns with one of my boots and okay, now I’m fucking curious. I watch as he runs his fingers along the inside. Then, he pulls out what looks like a silver, metal bracelet, but I don’t think it’s silver. With whatever’s on his fingers from my shoe, he does something with his blue-light parlor trick and adds it to the bracelet. “Give me your wrist.”

“What? No. Fuck no.”

“This is going on your wrist one way or the other, Ser-Novak. We can do it the easy way, or the hard way.”

“ _No_ way.” I scramble up the bed on my booted-feet and hop off the other side, thinking I’ll run out the door and call for help. This angel has gone rogue, which is fine for me, this can end before it starts. But I don’t make it off the bed.

Instead, I’m flipped over his knee, the same way Dad likes to spank and it’s no trouble for him at all to pull my pants down and start spanking my ass. Not only is it fucking embarrassing, it hurts. _A lot._ The spanks land in quick succession, in thud-slaps and it begins to sting at the outset. I can’t take it anymore, which fucking shocks me (I’m used to taking a lot with what my father hands out) and I start begging him. “Okay, I’m sorry. You win.”

He stops spanking, but he doesn’t release me. “Your wrist, Ser-Novak.”

I reach my left arm in the air, the one closest to his reach. I feel him clamp the thing on and when I look, I can see it close, seamless, with no opening. That’s all I have time for, until he’s spanking me again. “No! What the fuck? I let you put the damn thing on me.”

“This is for your disobedience. You will learn to obey me the first time I ask, Ser-Novak.”

He doesn’t stop until I’m sure my ass is bruised, and I actually have fucking tears, because I’m feeling kinda helpless. But oddly, when it’s done, and I’m stood up, fucking pulling my pants up as quickly as possible, I feel calm. I still want to murder him, but I have the wherewithal to do it methodically. What? That’s totally calm for me. I’ll plan something good. I’m sure Grampa knows how to torture an archangel. I wipe my eyes staring at my new wrist decoration. “What the fuck is this?”

“A tracker. I will be able to find you, should we become separated. Here,” he says holding his hand out for my wrist again. I give it to him this time, not wanting a repeat of the last five minutes. He waves his hand over it and it seemingly disappears, but I feel it there. I turn my wrist over and over as if I’ll find where it went. “Now, we will go over the rules and then we will complete our directive.”

“Father authorized this?” I say, still in fucking-disbelief, but I can’t say it’s out of the realm of things he’d do.

“He did. If you do not believe me, I will bring you to him and you can ask him yourself.”

I sigh. “No. That won’t be necessary.” Something about this angel bleeds honesty.

“It is only temporary anyway. Once we bond, I will be able to find you through the bond.”

“Bond?”

“Angels bond with the Aerians they protect. It is unavoidable.”

“And what if I don’t want to bond with you?”

“It is unavoidable,” he says like that should explain everything, _and_ make it okay. “It happens in all Angel-Aerian pairings after some time.”

“My father knows about this too?”

“It was a selling point. It’s extremely beneficial.”

Fuck my life. “Anything else you plan on doing to me?”

“The rules and then we will cease any unnecessary conversation.”

“Really? Fucking, really?” I’m talking to Father about that one. If I have to be around this guy twenty-four-seven, I need to be able to talk to him or it will drive me crazy.

“The rules,” he says ignoring my question. “You will obey me when I give you a directive, or you will be disciplined. As your father touched on, if you require time to yourself, you have but to tell me and I will determine if it is safe and appropriate to do so. I don’t eat and I don’t sleep, which will enable me to attend to you twenty-four-seven. I am aware of your father’s rules for you. If you want to do something, or go somewhere, you will run it by me and I will deem it appropriate or not.”

“I thought you were security detail? This sounds more like gatekeeper.” I fucking knew it though. I guess this is Father’s way of saying he’s really done with me going off-planet without permission.

He doesn’t answer.

Fuck! “Let’s just go. Do I get to walk this time? Or are you carrying me?” I cross my arms at him, probably looking like a pouty brat and with my eyes still red from crying and my ass stinging, I feel like one.

“You will wash your face and blow your nose and then we will leave.”

I glare at him, but brush by him on my way to the ensuite bath to clean up. It’s like bumping into Aerian stone, but I notice something else. There’s a scent, kind of an intoxicating one if you ask me; it’s floral which seems nice, but it’s probably some kind of angel poison or something, so I hold my breath until I’m sure I’m out of its range.

But it’s already in me and it makes my dick hard and my slick run free. Awesome. Not only have I lost all autonomy to this dickfaced archangel, I have no control over my sexual urges for him either. For _it._ Well fuck that. We are not having sex. And while I may have lost this battle, I will win the war.

I will win the fucking war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Halloween Blog](https://dmockingbirds.com/2020/11/01/happy-halloween/)


	3. Early Resignation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> November 14, 2020  
> ______________________
> 
> I had wanted to get this out last week, but my week has been insane. Sorry! This is a bit of a longer chapter though. 
> 
> Note: The Harry Potter books exist in this AU, LOL. Else how am I supposed to make Harry Potter references? You all know this is a MUST for me! Oh and Yahtzee exits here too. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Cas is pissed at me. “ _You embarrass me in front of our son, your father. They will think I cannot run my home,_ ” he says in the Old Aerian dialect, sounding angrier than if he were to speak in Common Aerian.

Most would be shaking having the Si speak to them like this, but I’m used to his fits of anger. I do have healthy respect for it and I wouldn’t be Aerian if I didn’t hold some amount of anxiety about doing my best to make sure he stays calm. I realized after the words were out of my mouth, how Cas would receive them. I didn’t mean to piss him off, but I did and I’m mad at myself for it, because that’s an easy one to avoid. “I know. I didn’t mean to, _Brava_. It was _only for my son I worried and did not think._ ”

While _Brava_ is an endearment, it’s also a term of respect, like ‘sir’, or ‘Master’. That’s how I mean it now, my somber tone makes it clear. I bow my head enough, but not too much. I am the Si’s consort and am not meant to bow my head as much as the others. I do need to show him the respect he’s owed, especially after what I did.

We’re still in Cas’s office. Dad had to go, regretfully. He wanted to stay, but he’s on a contract, this was a quick stop over. “Exactly. You worried for our son, because you did not think I worried enough. Tell me _Svenska_ , do you wish for someone else better?”

“No, Cas I—”

“—then why the _fuck_ would you question me in front of our kin?”

“Dean looked, scared. I couldn’t help it.” Maternal is the word traditionally used in reference to mothers, but there was no word created for _Birthing Fathers_ and it’s all I’ve got. I changed inside while I was pregnant with Dean and continued to afterward. I am far more nurturing than I was previously and there’s a connection between Dean and I that transcends what can be seen. I know I read something in his face; I don’t even think he knew it. My maternal instincts reached out and I said what I said. It had nothing to do with Cas, but Cas is never going to see it that way.

“He’s almost thirty years old and if he’s scared, good – it’s about time. I’ve tried to tell that boy… I don’t need you second guessing my decisions _especially_ in front of him. _You always act this way with him,_ ” he underlines in Old Aerian.

“I worry a different way than you do, _Brava._ That’s all.”

“ _If I’m good enough, if I’m leader enough, why would you need to worry about the way I have chosen to protect our son, uh?_ ”

I love my husband, I hold healthy respect for my husband, but he’s starting to piss me off. “It wouldn’t be the first time you and my dad made a dangerous deal with good intentions, Cas.” They are both cut from the same cloth, I swear to the Gods.

Cas slams his fist on the desk. “Now you disrespect your father, too? No wonder our son is, so disrespectful.”

Okay, that’s it. “Dad might be all doting Grampa,” in his own way, “now, but there was no such thing as not respecting John Winchester, you know that Cas.” Fuck him. He knows what I went through with my dad.

He scoffs. “Your dad was a kitten.”

Cas did have it much worse, but that’s not the point right now. “I’m not doing this, I’m not getting into this my dad was more of an asshole than your dad fight.”

“I may not have liked some of the things my father did, but I did as he said without arguing, so did my mother,” he continues.

“Okay, you made your point, Cas. I fucked up.” But my voice is too loud, and my stance is too aggressive.

The chair next to Cas, that _was_ next to Cas in sent flying into the wall, almost hitting me on the way by. I’m not built _not_ to react to something like that. I’ve got instincts in me from before I could feed myself properly. I swing at Cas and hit him square in the jaw.

Cas gets murderous. And we’re off.

I’m a good fighter there’s no doubt, and it’s always the same; I start out strong, with several hits into his face and various parts of his body, but Cas was raised by Salzal Novak, who is a psychotic son of a bitch. This means you can hit Cas in the head several times, like I’m doing and he just sneers at you daring you to keep going, because he knows no one’s perfect and that you’re going to fuck up at some point and then, he’ll come in for the kill counting every one of those hits against you.

When he sees an opening, he does. He’s on top of me, I’m on the ground and he’s punching the shit out of my face. I hear my nose break. I struggle, but the punches come too fast. “Up. Get up,” he says when he sees I’m going to choke on my own blood.

I make it to my hands and knees, dazed, blood spilling everywhere. “Bring him to get that cleaned up,” he says to two of his men who are suddenly here. “Stay, watch him and then take him to our room.”

_Fuck._

I’m whisked away, out of the apartment, to the Medic’s floor in the building, which is a mini-medical ward. Cas’s two personal guards remain the whole time, not looking at me, or talking, but I know they don’t miss a thing I do. It’s a quick process, and then I’m manhandled to the apartment, and brought to my and Cas’s suite. The door is locked and shut behind me.

When I first came to live with Cas, this happened a lot more than it does now. I used to bang on the door and yell things at the men, like what I’d do to them when I got out. Now, I know there’s no point, so I fall onto the bed, the meds the healer gave me making me groggy.

When I wake up, Cas is there. He’s been patched up too – I got some nice hits in on him, his face is bruised to fuck – but he definitely won this one, again. I see the strap next to me on the bed. “Good, you’re awake. Take off your clothes. You want to swing at me? You need to learn a lesson.”

I can take a lot. Like, a lot, _a lot_ , but I tear up at the thought of what he’s going to do with that. “Cas I’m sorry. I reacted _both_ times.”

Cas continues unbuttoning his cuffs, rolling them up, his eyes darken. “ _Svenska,_ I am going to take that strap to your back, until I think you’re reminded of your place. Undress, _now._ ”

“Daddy, _please_ …”

“Do I need to call my men, _Svenska_?”

I shake my head and remove my shirt.

~**~

I am not happy. I want to kill me an archangel and I have some words for my parents and Grampa. Michael is sitting on the other side of the aircraft, keeping watch over me (I guess), not talking to me. I just wish he wasn’t good-looking. It would be easier if he was a space-troll or something.

I pull out my communicator, and check for messages. There’s one from Constantine – oh yeah, that fucking mess – and a few from other ‘friends’ of mine wanting to hang out. Thing is, I don’t really have many real friends. That’s what happens when you grow up in a family like mine. You can’t trust many of them, yet you can’t be friends with people outside the family either. This means growing up, you make friends with the kids from the other _families_ considered _in the family_ , like the Fararrahs, Constantine’s family.

Most of the people that run with my crowd, you can’t trust not to stab you in the back and they’re ‘you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours’ kind of relationships. Which is fine for some things, but not for companionship.

I’m so bored, I actually read Connie’s message.

_Since you haven’t replied, I’m going to assume you’re being you and have erased all my messages. I’m going to keep sending the following until you read it: Of course my first thought when I found out I could carry was of what it would be like to carry a Novak baby. And I would have done it, you asshole, despite everything that comes along with that, but we both know what Castiel would have done when he found out._

Okay fine. Point him. Father would have had that pregnancy terminated so fast. I’ve been told time and time again I won’t be having a child, without a proper bonding taking place first.

_This was the best option. We don’t live normal lives, Dean. You know this. Please call me. I love you. I miss you._

I cry a few tears, enough I sniffle, and Michael looks over, but since I’m not, I dunno, being raped or killed, he resumes his post. I really do want to make up with Constantine. He’s the one I’d call about this whole, stupid Michael thing and we’d be cracking jokes about it. He’d try to make me feel better. Plus, I’m fucking worried about him. Female pregnancies are already no joke, male pregnancies are even riskier.

It’s the longest ride to Delour ever. Delour is another planet and Father does not like me going off planet, it’s actually forbidden unless I have special permission, which we do for this, but that doesn’t mean he’s not at home freaking out about it.

When we dock, Michael hails an air taxi and we head to the place I told him Nicholas would be. One of the nice things about being Dean Novak, _Ser_ -Novak, is that people are afraid of me. More accurately, they’re afraid of Si-Novak and Aryai-Novak, but I’ll take what little fun I can have. The place I sent Nicholas to is a super seedy joint. I sorta, _sold_ Nicholas to the owner and by the looks of it, he’s been made to strip for the patrons. He’s up on stage dancing when we arrive. I can tell he hates it, but by that bruise on his face, he knows better than to stop.

I sit at a table, set my weapon down on it, in the open and order a scotch. That’s not on Father’s list of rules of things Dean can’t do, but I can tell Michael isn’t a fan; he doesn’t say anything. Nice. Thing number one, which I will use to annoy the hell out of him, drinking my face off. When I’m on my third drink, he does say something. “This is not a good place. We need to collect Nicholas and go.”

“And interrupt his set? We can’t do that. Look, you don’t know how these places work. I do. You want to get out of here without a brawl, correct?”

“Preferably.”

“Right, so let me handle it. Waiter? Another over here, please.” Father may have lowered my allowance, but I’m due another installment soon and it’s still more than a lot of people have. I only told Connie I was broke, because it’s broke in our world where we buy all the expensive shit.

Michael stands down, but his jaw is set tight. I’m pissing him off, which is about right. He’s not stupid and he knows I could move things a lot faster, that I’m dragging this out to be a shithead, but he also knows I’m right about knowing how not to cause a brawl in a place like this.

I spy a cutie at another table looking at me and I wave him over. “C’mere darlin’, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“ _Dean,_ ” Michael says.

“What?” I smirk at him. This isn’t against any rules, and Michael can’t do shit. I pull the beautiful boy into my lap and order him something pretty, running my hand over his crotch, and squeezing his balls through his short, shorts.

He moans. “Ser-Novak.”

“Just Dean, sweetheart. You like that?”

“Yeah. Mmmmm… _yeah._ ”

“Dean, his set is finishing,” Michael says.

“Awwww, but… what’s your name?”

“Yaunda.”

“Yaunda needs to finish too.”

Nothing dangerous, no rule breaking. _Go fuck yourself, Michael._ Huh, what do you know? This is fun after all. I take Yaunda all the way, making him come in his pants, feeding him more pretty drinks as I continue to kiss and fondle him, all the while making _‘so there’_ eyes at Michael. _This is for spanking me like a child, asshole._ Only my parents get to do shit like that. And Grampa.

I don’t know why it bothers him, but I’m glad it does.

Eventually Nicholas’s set ends, and I have to stop my fun, but that doesn’t mean I can’t continue it. “I’m taking you back with me.”

“Really?” he says.

“Really.”

“I will need to see your license,” Michael says. “If he’s coming back, I need to see he’s allowed to travel to Aeriana and that he’s not illegal.”

I want to argue, because if those are the stipulations, even I wouldn’t be allowed at the penthouse. We’re all some kind of _illegal_ , in other words, criminal. But I’m not going to fight this one. I have no wish to be carried out of here over his shoulder. I’ll yell at him in the aircraft. I doubt Yaunda’s going to have a license, but I’m pleasantly surprised when he does. Michael check’s it and approves. Well tickle me surprised.

On the next circle by, I tell the server to bring Big Iain over. Iain’s he large guy who owns this place. I get on well with him. “Dean,” he says. “It’s good to see you. I see you’re having fun. Who’s this?”

He’s referring to Michael. “New pet,” I say. “Father got him for me.” I swear Michael growls.

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m going to need to buy Nicholas back. What do you want for him?”

Iain frowns. “He brings in a lot of gold. I don’t want to give him up.”

“I’m afraid I have to insist,” I say, leaning across the table, telling him with my eyes I’m not really asking. “Or will there be trouble between us?” No one wants the Aerian mafia after them.

He’s pissed, but he doesn’t push. “I’ll have Nicholas collect his things and release him.”

The price he wants is fucking ridiculous. Three times what he paid, but I’m not in the mood to haggle. Unfortunately, it wipes out most of what I had left in my account, I was relying on to tide me over until my allowance payment is deposited. It’s money Father will not replace (I only used his name for clout); this was my fuck up and Father’s going to make me pay for it. When Nicholas comes out, he’s a very angry bunny, but he doesn’t say a word, happier to be getting out of here than he is angry at me. “Cute shorts, Nick. Silver really is your color.”

He glares.

When we’re back aboard the aircraft, that’s when he lets me have it, or tries to anyway. “You’re a dead man, Novak,” he says.

Michael’s not having _any_ of that.

Before he can lay a hand on me, Michael incapacitates him. It’s easy for him, especially with the pent-up rage at me he’s been holding back. I can’t help biting my lip as I watch him in action. Brutal and efficient at the same time, he has Nicholas on his knees, which is kinda hot considering Nick has a great body and he’s wearing little shorts. I hold Yaunda’s hand, stunned. “You will remain in this position until we dock. I’m going to bind your hands,” Michael tells him in no uncertain terms.

Nicholas is scared and he should be. Michael’s eyes are doing that glow-y blue thing again and I really have no fucking clue what he’s capable of, but if what I’ve seen so far is anything to go by, it’s a lot.

When we return, we have to seek Father out, but before we do, I call one of Father’s men over. “Take this one to my room. You, I’ll see very soon,” I tell Yaunda, smacking his ass and kissing his lips. Michael scowls at me.

Father is in his office, and when he sees what we’re bringing him, he curses in Old Aerian and there’s a lot of _lebishna_ (idiot) thrown around. He won’t strap me in front of this guy, but I think I’ve pissed off enough to get him there. Not that I was trying. “I will deal with this. Get out.”

 _Fine with me._ I start off toward my room, where Yaunda is, looking forward to an evening of fucking and sleeping. This day has lasted a century, I’m glad for it to be done. Michael hasn’t said much to me, and I don’t expect him to say anything, not with Father’s rules, but he does speak up. “You dishonor your father.”

“You can fuck right off with that shit. Talking to me familiarly is a broken rule and I can have you flailed for that. I might enjoy that.” He’s not supposed to fucking talk to me. Especially not shit like that. I doubt I’ve scared him, but he shuts up. Still, it’s been said, and it gets to me and I really don’t like the feeling it leaves me. For some reason, I give a fuck about what Michael thinks and the disappointed tone I can hear in his voice plays over in my mind, haunting me. At least I can tell him to stay away from me for a while.

“I’d like some privacy,” I inform him, when we get to my room.

He insists on checking over my room first – which is super overboard – and then leaves us. “I will be outside the door should you need me.”

“I’m sure we’ll need snacks for later,” I tell him with a sneer.

Michael glares and I think for a moment, he might spank me again. He’s got some kinda look in his eye that says that. He doesn’t and leaves, an air of disdain for me remaining. _Fuck him._

I proceed to play with Yaunda all night. Yaunda’s fun, I like him, but I miss Constantine.

~**~

At least we both look like shit, but only my eyes are red from crying, Cas’s are haunted. “I’m sorry Cas. I do trust your judgement, I do.”

Even after all these years, I get caught up in what’s fair and what should happen, it’s hard not to want it sometimes, but only sometimes. The rest of the time I know that’s not us. Cas is an entirely different breed of Aerian. It’s hard to explain Cas’s life growing up in a few words. There was a lot of blood, violence, and death. He witnessed so many deaths of people he cared for deeply, sometimes in his arms and worse because believe me, there are worse things than death.

His father is known for cruelty and Cas experienced his father’s cruelty firsthand, many times , but the worst of it when he was taken by the Chetniks. All of it made him _this_. That he’s able to care for me or Dean at all, is a wonder. If I had Cas’s life, I might be completely narcissistic by now.

The Novaks are sticklers for protocol and respect. Power is ultimate control. If they have that they have everything, which his why it doesn’t sit well with Cas when I don’t back his actions one hundred percent. “How do I make you see, _Svenska_? How many years will it take?”

Cas wants control over everything, even the things I don’t have control over, like my feelings. “Then maybe we should adopt another child, huh?” I tease to let him know I already forgive him. In a way, he’s apologizing. I’ll be waiting a long time if I want the kind of apology from Cas that others would expect from their partners. And I don’t want another partner, for the record. I love Cas unconditionally.

“So, I can be mad with worry over two instead of one? No.” He runs a hand through my sweaty hair. “I wasn’t going to strap you, you know? If you had not swung at me, my anger would have run out.”

Maybe. I think Cas would like to believe that. I think the punishment was inevitable. But the truth is, Cas was so riled by what happened, because my words had him doubting himself, and then there was the look on Dean’s face. “His fear got to you for a moment too,” I say.

“Ask me how much I like _both_ my kin with little faith in me.” His grip on me tightens just a bit. I breathe carefully. “But then I saw something else. _Lust._ He was scared, but it turned him on.”

I laugh. “Figures. Everything turns Dean on.”

“At least he can’t have sex with this thing. Michael will only mate with his one true pairing.”

“Sooooo, Michael’s a virgin?”

“Yep and he’ll stay that way. I plan on keeping Michael if this works out. I’ve never felt so sure about something.”

“If you say so, Cas.” I rest against his chest. “You do realize if you tell our son that Michael’s a virgin, he will find a way to fuck him. That would be his ultimate challenge.”

“Leave our boy to me. How is your back, Sam?”

“Like fucking inferno.”

“I will rub salve on it, you will close your eyes and go back to sleep.”

I nod not caring one way or the other, but oh boy. Dean better not find out Michael’s never had sex. I’m not sure there’s anyone who didn’t get fucked by my son, once he set his mind to it.

~**~

In the morning, I run fingers through his purple hair and kiss his cheek. “Wish I could keep you, kid, but you gotta go.” I don’t get to keep that many people.

He nods. “You know Dean, know that scary guy, your pet you said?”

That he thinks Michael is my pet makes my day. “Yeah, darlin’?”

“I think he wants to have sex with you.” He’s speaking real quietly. Smart. Michael probably has super angel hearing or some shit.

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m Jarwinese. We have a keen sense of smell. I could smell his arousal and it’s for you.”

Is that what that scent was? “Huh. Never met anyone Jarwinese before,” I say as I also think up several thousand ways to exploit this new information. If I can get Michael to sleep with me, Father will kill him, and I’ll be down one angel. It’s win-win.

“Yeah, watch,” he says. His amber skin tone fades and brightens to a pastel green. “This is our real skin tone, but we try to blend in better with something more common.”

“Awww, I like you green though. Green with purple hair, you’re gorgeous.”

I help Yaunda dress and bid him goodbye before I have him escorted to an aircraft. “Goodbye Dean, I won’t forget you.”

I kiss him, regretful we have to say goodbye, but nothing can come of us, not even as friends.

Michael is still outside the door, but once Yaunda’s gone, he storms in like he owns the place. I’m still naked though and not that I care much who sees me naked, but I really think he needs to learn to fucking ask before he barges in here. “Dude!”

“You’re supposed to be at breakfast in ten minutes,” Michael says.

“Yeah, well I’m not going.” Fuck everyone, I’m staying right here.

“You are not permitted to miss breakfast, get dressed.”

He has me by the balls on that one. I am supposed to go down whether my parents end up at breakfast or not. There was an ‘incident’ a few years back where I drank my face off for a few months straight and didn’t get as much food as a guy like me requires. My parents lost their minds, but thankfully, it wasn’t decided that I was banned from drinking, so long as I ate – don’t ask me why, my parents work in strange and mysterious ways – and so began the rule that Dean gets three squares no matter what. Father isn’t as stringent about checking as he was at the time, but he will check enough I need to be careful. One day won’t hurt though, but apparently Michael is an anal bastard.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’ll go change.” But I take my fucking time doing it and I do imagine what Michael would look like in panties. Bet he’d be hot.

I don’t just wash up; I decide on a nice, leisurely shower. I hear Michael banging on the door. It’s fifty-fifty whether he’ll come in here or not. “Dean, we have to go.”

“I’m coming. Can’t a guy take a piss in peace?” I lie.

“I hear the shower Dean.”

“Maybe I’m pissing in the shower.”

He doesn’t pursue that one, but I realize I’m on borrowed time, so I end my shower, wrap a towel around myself and stroll out. Michael is livid, his eyes start to glow blue, which doesn’t mean good. “Now Michael. Calm down. I’m almost ready.”

He’s done with me. _So done._ Once again, I’m thrown over his shoulder, but this time, it’s an even more humiliating, especially when the towel falls open and he spanks my ass through the penthouse as he carries me toward the kitchen. I give myself props for trying to get away, but my psycho-angel-bodyguard is fucking strong.

He tosses me at the table, my towel flapping open, showing off my twig and berries to the kitchen, still wet from the shower. My parents are there, and they look like shit, with their faces busted up and bruised to fuck. Sometimes, especially when I’m as pissed as I am, I think they can beat each other to death for all I care.

They don’t look to be fighting now. They make up pretty fast; I can’t explain them. Dad is trying not to laugh, Father is unsure as to whether or not he needs to scold me for something.

I hastily attempt to readjust my towel, my ass on fire – it was just spanked _good_ yesterday – and I have to suffer the speculation of my parents while I sit mostly naked at the breakfast table. Not that I care about being naked in front of people per se, it’s about how it went down. I decide to take over. I go full Draco Malfoy. “Father, you need to call off this dog. He’s crazy. Totally fucking psycho. Wait until you see what he did to my ass.”

I’ve seen Father kill for less than this.

Father scans me, sees I’m fine and moves to Michael instead of me. “Michael?”

“I gave him a spanking yesterday when he was disobedient, nothing more,” Michael says, and I flush a thousand shades of red. “He was also disobedient this morning and would not make effort to come down to the meal at the time you specified. I carried him here.”

Dad has to look away, because he’s gonna lose it and laugh his ass off. Father is impressed. “Very well. Carry on.”

I’m outraged. “May I at least go get some clothes, sir?”

“No. Listen to Michael next time. Mimi, will you bring him some coffee, please?”

I hate everybody. _Everybody._ I glare all through breakfast and I don’t talk to anyone, only speaking when I’m spoken to, because let’s be real, you do not ignore either of my parents when they say something to you directly. Teenaged Dean learned that lesson the hard way.

When breakfast is thankfully over and I’m excused, I storm to my room, and I almost tell Michael I need privacy again, but then I remember what Yaunda told me. It’s now part of any contract with security detail for me: Thou shalt not have sex with Dean. If I can get Michael to fuck me, he’ll be gone, and Father will cut off his angel balls as a bonus. It’s the perfect plan. When we enter my room, I whip off my towel and fall onto my bed face up, my dick hanging out for all to see and I spread my legs obscenely. The ‘all to see’ being Michael, of course. I stroke it a few times.

Michael actually fucking blushes. Didn’t know an angel could blush. “I will leave you to have some privacy. Be ready for lunch.”

 _Oh no he doesn’t._ “No, I’d rather you stayed. I’m scared. Really scared. I need your beefy, angel magnetism to protect me.”

He knows I’m full of shit. His jaw does that tightening thing I’m starting to get used to. _Yatzhee._ Got you, you stupid feathery mother fucker. I have yet to see his wings, but angels have them, right?

He huffs and turns around so he can’t see me. _Oh no. That’s not gonna fly._ “You’re gonna need to keep both eyes on me Michael,” I say in a sultry voice. “I don’t feel safe. Anyone could _come_ in here at any time.”

I start to smell that scent again, and _fuck_ , I start to get turned on, like _really_ fucking turned on. My ass starts to produce slick, making me super wet. I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth though, so I use that to coat my dick and continue stroking myself off, the scent intoxicating me like a drug.

Michael isn’t doing well either. Only, instead of giving over to his urges like I am, he’s gritting his teeth, _hard_ and clenching his fists. He’s even starting to pant just a bit. I love the control I’m having over his reactions. “Why don’t you come over here and help?”

“No.”

“Awww, c’mon. I can see you want to. Wouldn’t you like to stick your cock right here?” I circle two fingers over my hole and slide them in. The squelching sound they make is fucking vulgar, but by the way I can see Michael reacting, it’s turning him on no matter how vile.

“Novak, if you don’t put that away—”

“—you’ll what?” I smile the fucking cockiest smile I can. We’ve reached a point of no return though. He’s not taking his eyes off me and I’m not stopping. I also notice he’s dropped the prefix from my name. I’ve got a hook in on this guy, however small.

The scent continues to permeate through me, turning me on more and more until I’m about to beg Michael to stick his cock in me. I can see it, him shoving into me roughly, over top, gnawing on my neck. When I come, it’s fucking magic, like no other time I can recollect and I’m left staring at him, with come all over my dick and hand. _What was that?_

Whatever it was, Michael’s _pissed_. “I will be outside the door. Don’t you ever do that again, Ser-Novak.”

He storms out and I’m left mystified and for the record, I’m so totally fucking doing that again.

~**~

After ignoring too many communications from Constantine, I tell him I’ll come by. I need to get out of here anyway and my need to check on him is too great – I’m like Father that way. I dress in some of my best – I have a blue shirt in particular Connie likes – and do my hair all handsome and shit. When I’m ready, I collect my pet angel. “Yo, Bitch. I need to go see a friend. It’s not off planet, or on the _small_ list of forbidden places on planet.”

He scowls at me, but looks at the location on my communicator. “Yes. We may go there.”

Wasn’t asking him, but perfect. I follow him to the loading bay and he hails a driver. Again, it’s a quiet ride, one where he sits with precision and elegance and I pour myself a drink. These crafts are loaded with booze and snacks. He’s looking at me, judging me and I don’t like it. “Do you have a problem?”

“You drink a lot.”

I’m surprised he’s answered. “Yeah, well when I want your opinion on it, I’ll fucking ask you. Otherwise, shut your hole about my life.”

He shrugs unaffected by my vitriol. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s amused.

When we arrive at the Fararrah apartment building, I allow myself to be frisked by security, Michael does the same and I hand my weapon over. I don’t leave home without it, but I can’t bring it into Connie’s place. Michael follows me like a brooding lapdog. Constantine greets us in the lobby, just past security. He runs and jumps into my arms squeezing the life out of me, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and the longer whisps of his blonde hair falling into his face. “You’re the galaxy’s biggest asshole, but I love you anyway. Don’t ever fucking do that again. I need you.”

I forget why I’m mad. It feels too good to have him back. “I’m sorry, Connie. Let’s go talk.”

He grabs my hand, dragging me along. “This the new guy?” he asks.

Constantine’s been around for all my changes of guard. We’ve had a lot of fun distracting them together and thinking up new and creative ways to ditch them. Constantine has security detail when he goes to big events, or when he has to leave the apartment for an extended time; I’m the only one whose father thinks he needs ‘round the clock care.

“Yes.”

He nods knowing I’ll have a lot more to say later. Not that I care if Michael knows what I think about him – I’m sure he knows what I think about him – but some things are nice to say in private. When we get to his room, I tell Michael we need privacy and to wait outside. “I’m going to have to check this room and make sure it’s secure if you want me to do that. Mr. Fararrah, is that all right with you?”

Oh sure, he gets _asked _shit.__

__“By all means, Michael,” Constantine says, smiling like an asshole at my expense._ _

__When Michael is happy, he turns to me. “I’ll be just outside the door.”_ _

__I wave. “I won’t miss you.” But as he walks by, I smell that scent again and I start getting wet. _Fuck._ Okay, now that’s just annoying._ _

__Connie laughs at me when Michael’s out the door. “Wow, you like him.”_ _

__“What? No. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Plus he smells. Can you smell _that_?”_ _

__“Smell what?”_ _

__“Some kind of florally, lilac kind of shit.”_ _

__“I don’t smell anything.”_ _

__“And you’re not _really_ turned on right now?”_ _

__“No. Well maybe a bit. I’ve missed you Dean.”_ _

__I bite my lip. “I’m sorry about the other night. Really fucking sorry. Things were turning to shit and that was one more thing.”_ _

__“I knew you were going to react badly. I was scared. But Dean, there was no way you were going to sign off on this. I went with beg forgiveness over permission.”_ _

__“And how do you know I’m not intent on killing Rylan?”_ _

__He sighs. “That’s always a possibility. My father might do it for you.”_ _

__I glance to the door. “We should keep it down. I don’t know how well Angel-Boy out there can hear.”_ _

__He nods. “I haven’t told any of my parents. I’m scared Dean. I don’t know why I did this, but I did and I want to keep him.” Constantine has two dads and a mom, but it was one of his dads who carried him, like me with my dad. We were born the same year and our protective Father’s would only allow our dads to hang out with the other for a time._ _

__“It’s a boy?”_ _

__He smiles. “Yeah. I was hoping you’d be Uncle Dean, _Yia_ Dean,” he says using Old Aerian. He’s not fluent like I am, but he knows some by osmosis, hanging around the Novak apartments as much as he has._ _

__I tear up. “I will. I _will._ I’m so fucking sorry, Connie.” I keep picturing his face as he ran out that night. He’s going through something I missed. I still don’t know what, but he doesn’t have to fucking tell me. I’m here for him. “I am the galaxy’s biggest asshole. I can’t promise I won’t be an asshole again, but I’ll try.”_ _

__“Meh, we’re all assholes sometimes. You’ll make it up to me by helping me figure out how we’re going to tell my parents.”_ _

__And just like that we’re on solid footing again. Things feel a little better in my world. We spend time laying on his bed, his head in my lap, while I talk to the baby to make Connie laugh. “Will you join with Rylan?” I ask._ _

__“I want to.”_ _

__But he doesn’t know if his father will say yes. What a fucking mess. After a few hours, there’s a knock on the door. It’s my keeper. “What do you want? I said privacy.”_ _

__“It’s time to go home for dinner,” Michael says._ _

__“I don’t have to be _home_ for dinner, Michael. I can eat here.” He’s not satisfied with that and if I don’t want to be carried out of here over his shoulder, I’d better come up with something fast. “Call Father and ask him if you don’t believe me.”_ _

__He glares, but leaves out the door, presumably to call him._ _

__“Wow, he’s intense, Dean.”_ _

__“You’re telling me. I swear, he thinks I’ll spontaneously combust or something.”_ _

__He’s back moments later. “Your father has assured me you may eat here, but I want to see you eating some food.”_ _

__I roll my eyes. “All right, already. Connie, could you get us some food? Maybe some beer too?” Because I need a drink to handle fucking Michael._ _

__He orders a boatload of stuff. We get naked and fuck (after I make sure it’s okay to have sex with a pregnant man) and eat when the food arrives. I’m naked when Michael checks on us and I hold up my food to show him I’m eating. Great Gods, he’s like a mother hen._ _

__Constantine laughs his ass off. “Oh, my Gods you two. This is entertaining.”_ _

__“Stop. I need your help. I need to ditch this guy but am having a little trouble considering all the angel powers and shit.” I recount for him all that’s happened._ _

__He laughs harder. “I feel for you, I do. But Dean? You need someone to spank your ass.”_ _

__He’s pissing me off. “Fine, you’re no help. Let’s talk about Rylan though. That douchebag better be treating you right.”_ _

__“You know Rylan’s a giant ass like you are sometimes, but overall he’s fine. Doesn’t matter, I’m in love with him as much as I am you.”_ _

__“When are you going to tell your parents, Connie?”_ _

__“I was thinking either tomorrow night when Father gets back, or never and the three of us run away together.”_ _

__“The three of us running away together won’t be happening unless we get rid of feathers.”_ _

__“Feathers? he have wings?”_ _

__“I mean, I haven’t seen them yet, but you’d think.”_ _

__We fall asleep but are woken up by an archangel who doesn’t seem to know what the meaning of the word privacy is. “What?”_ _

__“I came to check on you. It’s been hours.”_ _

__“Not dead yet, to your dismay.”_ _

__Turns out, he really doesn’t like jokes about my death. “Your disrespect is uncalled for. We’re going home. Get your things, I’ll be outside the door.”_ _

__For saying _that?_ Seems a little overboard to me. “What? That’s not a rule.”_ _

__He rounds on me. “It’s not a rule for you to treat someone with basic decency?”_ _

__Okay, maybe he’s just tired of the way I’ve been treating him in general. Fair. My body heats with embarrassment, because I know it’s true. I’ve been more than just an asshole, way over the line and I do have some amount of conscience thanks to Dad. “You’re right, but you can’t take me home over being an asshole. I’m not twelve, Michael.”_ _

__He’s not having a conversation about it, because in actual fact, he can and there’s something about that and it just, _sigh_ , it’s cozy and fucking infuriating at the same time. “Ten minutes, I’ll be waiting.”_ _

__He leaves and I’m left bewildered. In any case, I realize my hands are tied on this matter unless I want to be dragged home, which I do not. I glare at the door and turn on the lights dimly, as I gather my things. “What’s going on, Dean?” Constantine says. He’s groggy, having witnessed that little scene half-asleep._ _

__“I gotta go, sweetheart. Come by the apartment tomorrow.” I kiss him before I leave._ _

__I storm by Michael, who is thankfully _not_ giving off any juicy, arousal scents and head down to security to grab my weapon. When we’re in the aircraft, I let him have it. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You’re security detail. You’re acting like one of my fucking dads. We need some boundaries dude. When I say leave me the fuck alone, that means leave me the fuck alone until I say, not when you decide. You work for my father, which means you also work for me. _Capeesh?_ ”_ _

__He won’t answer me and that’s more infuriating than if he fought back. I want him to fight me. He won’t. I keep going trying to egg him on, trying to crack him open, but he’s sealed as seamless as the tracker he put on me._ _

__When we get back, it’s late and annoying Father with this, at this time of night is a one-way ticket to not being able to sit at breakfast tomorrow. Instead, I ignore Michael with all of my being, uninterested even in fucking with him. I get ready for bed and I don’t care what he does. He can stand watch over me creepily or stand outside whatever the fuck his feathery heart desires. I pass out wearing night clothes this time and think that he can go fuck himself with his lectures on how I should act and treat people._ _

__I wake to my curtains opening, Dad’s there and I check the time. It’s well past breakfast. _Where was my angel wakeup call?_ He sits in a chair as I rub my eyes. “We need to talk, Dean,” he says, his eyes look extra exhausted with his nose all busted up._ _

__“What’d’I do now?”_ _

__“Michael resigned this morning.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mock's Latest Blogs
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	4. Feathers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> November 17, 2020  
> ______________________
> 
> One of my best friends turned 40 today, which means Mock turns 40 in 9 more days. Can you believe that?
> 
> I have a surprise for you all to celebrate, but it might be later than my bday. 
> 
> Also, I have this weird desire (weirder than my usual desires). I want to see all the versions of all the Deans and all the Cas's and all the Sams I've written to show up somewhere at the same time and see what happens. I dunno why, but that thought entertains me so. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this.

~Earlier~

“Dean doesn’t know the fucking messes he creates,” Cas says.

I’m transfixed though. Cas is sweaty, his white button-up shirt open partway, tie on but loose (that only comes off when he’s fucking me), hair a lot messier than usual and his frown extra deep. Cas just dealt with Nicholas. Part of working as Dean’s security detail, means severe punishment should you fail. He worked Nicholas over, from the top of his back, down to the bottom of his calves and then other members of security took him to the room he’ll be staying in, on another floor, until he is retrieved.

Sometimes the security detail working for Cas are simply Aerians who have some kind of rough history and have high recommendations from someone Cas trusts as much as Cas trusts – he doesn’t truly trust anyone. But Nicholas was on contract from Salzal. Dean knew this, but Dean has no regard for what happens when he decides to do the things he does, since Cas usually cleans up his messes. Sure he’s let Dean sit in prison from time to time, but that’s peanuts compared to what Cas has to mop up after the tidal wave of trouble he causes.

I bite my lip. “That was hot, Daddy.”

“He did have nice cries and thick balls.”

Cas makes them strip bare and has two of his men hold them down. With Nicholas, he was very attracted to his nuts and kept fondling them when he let the guy have a break, letting him know how much he was enjoying them, whispering Old Aerian in his ear. Because of that, the boy got off easy. Nicholas won’t think so, but between Cas’s good mood and his thick balls, Nicholas didn’t suffer near what the other have. “He is yours for six months, Daddy. We could keep him, have him fulfill the contract in other ways.”

Cas pulls me to him and kisses me. “I’d like that, but I don’t have the time. I’ll send him back to Father and Father can deal with him. Unfortunately, Father will wonder and there will be questions, but this is a simple case of disobedience. Regardless of Dean’s behavior, Nicholas should have stuck to contract.”

Cas rehearses this out loud, but I know he’s dreading dealing with this. However, we have a Michael now and that will impress Salzal. I nod.

“Gods, I want you, but I have too much to do. You have plenty of time though, you can keep my cock warm for me until I have time to fuck you.”

“My pleasure, Daddy.” I crawl underneath, thankfully Cas has a large desk. The hard part will be not sucking him off like I want to.

~**~

Much later, I pour myself a beer in a frosted glass. Cas frowns as he does, when I do stuff like this, but he doesn’t forbid it, especially since he can be found pouring his own scotch – but that’s _sophisticated_. I prefer to pour a cold one. It reminds me being on the road with Dad. I’d pour us the beer, we’d drink them and discuss our next hunt. Sometimes I miss it. Novak life can be like being in a gilded cage, even if there’s never a dull moment. There’s always some price on our heads, we can’t _just_ go out, yet we _need_ to go out to keep our connections.

“Should Daddy take you out tonight?” Cas says, circling me from behind, while I’m mid-pour.

“You’re in a good mood.”

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“Dean has left the apartment.” That’s half the reason he’s not in a good mood; Dean leaving the apartment.

“Yes, but I don’t have as much to worry about.”

“This is because of Michael.”

“Of course, it is. Dean’s finally as safe as he’ll ever be.”

There’s no such thing as totally safe.

I love seeing Cas so relaxed, even the creases of his face seem to have been ironed away. I’m reminded of the Cas I bonded with three decades ago, before he began worrying night and day about Dean. Okay, yeah. Michael was a good idea.

“Drink up, _Svenska_. We’re going for dinner.”

~**~

We go for dinner, Cas fucks me in the aircraft on the way home, I walk into the apartment half-dressed, he yanks me into our bedroom to fuck me some more. By morning, I have new bites and bruises. He likes one in particular on my shoulder he circles, smiling.

I get kinda shy. It still happens after all these years. When I first came to live with Cas, he was his most charming self. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew what was up with him, but I can’t help it, I like danger; I was raised on it and while some might never want to see danger again after growing up that way, I ended up craving it. Cas has always been the epitome of danger. Even the way he ‘acquired’ me, looking back, it’s the only way I would have allowed myself to be won over.

He’s not an easy partner, or the kindest, but he’s right for me, even if my back still fucking aches.

There’s a knock on our door. “Come in,” Cas says.

It’s Larry. “Si-Novak. I’ve got Michael out here, he says it’s not urgent, but he needs to speak with you at your earliest convivence.”

All of the tension in Cas is back. He ages ten years in a second. “Tell him to wait in my office. I’ll be right there. _Dammit,_ I knew it was too good to be true,” Cas says as he swears in Old Aerian and slides out of bed to dress. I start doing the same.

“Maybe it’s nothing bad.”

“Don’t be stupid. No one pulls their boss out of bed if it’s not bad.”

When we get to Cas’s office, Michael’s leaned up against a wall, he straightens when we walk in. I catch something in Michael’s eyes I didn’t before. He may be a centuries old Archangel, but he’s still got something innocent there. It makes me like him a bit more. I haven’t been innocent since I was four years old. I wouldn’t be able to tell you what it truly meant if I tried, yet I know that’s what I see.

I admit, when he first walked into Cas’s office, all I could see was a killing machine and he is, but there’s more. I also see he’s all buttoned up to the last button of his long coat. He’s intent on leaving, for good. “Do you need to take leave for a few days?” Cas says hopefully, but he knows too. Michael’s not asking for a break, he wants to break the contract.

“I’m leaving. I will return your payment. Consider my resignation effective immediately.”

Cas’s gaze dips below freezing temperature. “You can’t just leave. We performed the loyalty spell.”

“Yes, and I will always be loyal to your family, but that doesn’t keep me. It only prevents me causing permanent harm to you and yours.”

“Fine, what do you want? Name your price,” Cas says.

“There isn’t one. I must go.”

The look on Cas’s face makes me dive in when maybe I shouldn’t, but I can see this is not going to be a conversation Cas’s way will win. That look of defeat is rare on my fearless husband and I want it gone. “Michael wait. Was it something Dean did?”

The mention of Dean’s name physically hurts him. He turns around, he’s distraught. “Your son is the most disrespectful Aerian I’ve ever met. What did he do? More like what _didn’t_ he do? He needs more than one lesson in respect for people other than himself.”

Wow. I mean he’s right, but he’s so passionate about it. “That’s a lot my fault Michael,” I say. Cas is so hard on him; I try to make up for it by spoiling him at times. The lack of consistency helped create the Dean of today. Even knowing this, I can’t bring myself to stop.

“Dean is a twenty-nine-year-old man. He’s responsible for his own actions.”

Cas takes over. “I couldn’t agree more. Is that what you’d like? Take him through some kind of angel obedience program? You have my full support.”

I look to Cas, but only because I’m surprised he’s so willing to let Michael do whatever he wants with his son, this is unprecedent. I’m kinda pissed at Dean myself. He said he’d try with Michael; it’s barely been two days.

Michael pauses like he’s thinking as to whether or not he should say what he’s about to. “Remember how I explained that eventually Dean and I would form a bond, one I could use to find him and feel him? That it was unavoidable?”

“I remember. That was a selling feature,” Cas says.

He nods. “I have discovered that were we to remain in proximity, another kind of bond would begin to form.”

That doesn’t deter Cas. “What kind of bond? I’m sure we could work something out.”

He shakes his head. “That original one I spoke of is mostly irreversible, this one is not. Dean is… he’s my one true pairing.”

Cas’s eyes form slits again. “Your what?”

“Another name for it, is _Profound Bond_.”

“How do you know?” Cas says.

“It’s something an angel just _knows_. We only get one and when we set eyes on them, we know. Though, I understand your skepticism. I could hardly believe it myself, but then tonight when I… well it doesn’t matter anymore. The point is that I know, and this can no longer continue. Not only is that _not_ the bargain we made, I don’t want to bond with him. He’s immature, selfish, _arrogant!_ ”

Yeah, he’s, _into_ my son. No one gets that riled up about someone they truly never want to see. But anyway, Cas is never going to allow this. He made it clear the other night. Only, he’s tapping his fingers on his desk, he’s _thinking_ about it. “Is the bond with an angel like an Aerian marriage bonding?”

“Yes,” Michael says. “Only more binding.”

“Which would mean you would protect Dean forever?”

“Of course. We are most loyal to our profound bond.”

“You’re in luck Michael,” Cas say. _He is?_ “My husband was just mentioning we needed to find a mate for our son. Someone to balance him. Maybe that’s you.”

I almost roll my eyes, he was so far away from being on board with that and now he’s arranging a marriage for him? Both Dean and I knew it would always be this way though. There was no way Cas was letting Dean pick a husband. “You would be willing to consider me, Si-Novak?” Michael says, suddenly calm, which tells me a lot more about Michael’s resignation.

I don’t doubt Dean pissed him off but had this _thing_ not have happened, I’d bet all the Novak gold he could have found a way to put up with him. “ _Consider_ , yes. How much time do I have before the bond happens?”

“The bond between us has already begun to form, there are conscious steps that have to be performed before it is sealed, for that I can wait until I have your permission, but as to how long it will take for the bond to build to that step? Could take days, could take years.”

“How is it sealed?” Cas asks.

“With um… with… sex,” he says like a young boy who’s never had sex before.

And then I remember, he hasn’t. “Is it true you can only have sex with your, uh, person?” I ask.

“Yes, well. Physically I can have sex with whomever I want, there is nothing to stop me in that way, but it’s highly dishonorable. I would _never_ dishonor my future mate like that,” he says.

I believe him. “Dean’s no virgin,” I tell him. If we’re talking sexual honor here, Dean falls way short in that category based on those parameters.

He tenses. “I am aware. We don’t expect the same from our mates. They are usually not familiar with our ways.”

“You were willing to walk out on him. Wouldn’t that mean _never_ having sex?” I ask.

“There are other things to an existence besides sex. I’ve gone this long; it might be better never to know.”

“Wait until you fuck my son, before you say things like that Michael,” I tell him, laughing. I can’t imagine anyone not trying sex for so long let alone ever. It’s got to be centuries or something for Michael.

He flushes head to toe with embarrassment. “Anyway, the bond cannot seal until we do, _that_. But I should warn you, the bond will have been growing all the while and then it’s hard to separate a pair by the time it’s reached the point it needs to be sealed. It can be done, it’s just harder and … awful.”

“So, it makes the pair fall in love?” I ask. I think I’m going to ask Dad for some books on angel lore. It’s fascinating.

Michael looks at his hands. “No. Love is not a requirement, even for this kind of bond. Many Angel-Other Species, profound bonds have happened without the pair falling in love. They can be a platonic pair.”

“But you said, sex,” I say.

“I believe the term Aerian’s use is ‘fuck buddy’? Has Dean been in love with every single one of the men he’s slept with? Like that Jarwinese man he had in his bed for instance?” Michael is seething and he reminds me of Cas right now.

“Okay got it. Sex is a requirement for the bond, but love is not,” I say.

“Which is the other reason I should go. Dean _hates_ me. I’m sure he doesn’t want to be stuck with me forever.”

“Dean will bond with who I say he’ll bond with,” Cas says. “His opinion on the matter is irrelevant. So, will you stay if I _consider_ you?”

“I appreciate your consideration, but I still don’t think it will work. Dean would need to exercise some level of obedience or I’ll get too, volatile. He can’t continuously antagonize me.”

Yeah, that’s a problem. I don’t know if Dean is capable of surrendering to the angel.

“I will make him behave, you have my permission to add rules with regard to obedience,” Cas says.

I quirk my brow at him, he’s going to a lot of lengths here. _Is there something I don’t know?_

Michael thinks on it and nods. “Okay. I will give it another try.”

Cas smiles wide and he doesn’t smile wide like that, often. “Good. All other rules we discussed remain the same, but you can expand the section on obedience. I will go deal with Dean and bring him here, so we can update him.”

Oh jeez. That’s not going to be good. I’m actually for all of this, Dean needs something like this, he just doesn’t know it yet but he’s going to flip out if Cas storms in there like I can see he’s planning on. “Uh, Cas? _Please._ Let me talk to him first. This is all really good, but you know what he’s like.”

“All the more reason to wake him up straight into the water.”

Which would be a huge fucking mistake. Okay I have to do it. I have to give him _the_ eyes. I give him my best Begging Sam Eyes. They happen to be the same eyes I give him when I’m begging to suck his cock. “ _Please._ ”

He twists his lips and crooks two fingers toward me and when I get close enough, he yanks me to him. “All right, you may go, but you owe Daddy for this one, Sam. You can use those eyes later for something better than begging to coddle our son some more. What do you say?”

I can _feel_ Michael blushing to the side of us, but he might as well get used to it. “Thank you, Daddy.”

He smacks my ass. “Good boy. Don’t take long.”

~**~

I wake to my curtains opening, Dad’s there and I check the time. It’s well past breakfast. Where was my angel wakeup call? He sits in a chair as I rub my eyes. “We need to talk, Dean,” he says, his eyes look extra exhausted with his nose all busted up.

“What’d’I do now?”

“Michael resigned this morning.”

“Really? That was short-lived.” I’m surprised that I feel my body drop at the news.

“Your father is furious with you, I begged him to allow me to talk to you first.”

I wince both because of Father’s fury and Dad going to bat for me. It always buys him trouble with Father, and I might be an adult now, but I still hate when they fight and they _just_ had a fight, probably about me. “How was I supposed to know the angel would break so easy? At least Nicholas lasted a full month. Maybe angels aren’t so tough.”

“Dean, you promised you’d try with Michael. It’s been two days. You couldn’t have tried.”

“Not my fault. He’s a major douchebag, Dad. Do you know what he did? He made me come home like I’m some kid for lipping him off. And yeah, it’s not _nice_ but where does he get that kind of authority?”

Dad’s quiet, too quiet. He takes a breath. “Your father convinced him to stay, but Michael wanted some things.”

I’m kind of fucking relieved he’s not gone, but I’m still an indignant ass. “What kind of things?”

“I’m not allowed to tell you. Your father is going to tell you what he feels you need to know. I’m here to ask you to please do what your father asks. For me? I know that’s dirty, but he’s done. He’s getting ready just to lock you up here and throw away the key. One way or another, you’ll be doing what he wants. I don’t think you or I will be able to handle that way.”

“Yeah. Okay. But why is he so hot to trot on Michael?”

“Far as I know, he likes what Michael’s been able to do with you so far and he feels you have ultimate protection. I have to say Dean, there’s already been a change in him. When you were off planet yesterday? He barely gave it a thought and went to the Fararrah’s he didn’t even mention it. It could end up being some kind of freedom for you.”

 _As far as he knows,_ Dad said, which means there’s a chance Father hasn’t told him everything, which wouldn’t be the first time. But yeah, that’s pretty big him relaxed with me out of the apartment. Ugh. I’m doomed with Michael forever, aren’t I? I get ready to face Father, who I know is going to kill me. I don’t bother putting on my jacket, just my black travel pants and a sleeveless shirt, kinda like Dad’s. When I enter, Michael is there, and Father has one of his thicker straps laid out on his desk. Father’s eyes are tiny slits and I have the wherewithal to slink to the chair and cow enough he knows I’m submissive. He speaks in Old Aerian. “ _You disgrace me. You are disobedient, disrespectful. Do you know what an honor this is? I am ashamed._ ”

“I’m sorry, _Baba._ I’ll do better,” I promise him.

“You will. This is your last chance Dean and then I take more drastic measures. Take your pants down and get over the desk.”

I do, slowly. I know I should move faster, but that thing is nasty. Figures Michael’s staying to watch. Sick fuck. Probably gets off on seeing me scream. When I’m in position, I understand just how done Father is when he starts in right away with no warning. I get five, mighty whacks to my ass that still has collateral from when Michael spanked me the other day, if anyone wanted to know. I cry out each time, Father isn’t holding back; he’s trying to warn me. “You will display more respect. Period. Understood?”

“ _Yes, Baba,_ ” I cry out, unable to hold back my tears.

I get fifteen more. It’s a short strapping, thank the Gods, but it’s got me bending my knees and quaking just before each _thwhack!_. “Stand up,” he says when he’s done.

I do, pulling up my pants over my very sore rear, my hands shaking. “Th-thank you, sir,” I don’t forget to say.

He pulls my head to his lips and kisses it. “Better behavior, please. And new rule. When Michael asks you to do something, you do it with similar respect to what you’d give me or Dad.”

I nod and I kinda want to fucking cling to him, to _something_ , but that would be inappropriate and childish. He’s not Dad and I’m not a little boy anymore, but I get these _urges_ after a spanking or a strapping like that. Michael, who I was suspecting of sadism, looks shocked. He is not okay, and I don’t know that he enjoyed that little show as much as I thought he would. “Si-Novak? May I take Dean and have a word with him?”

“He’s all yours, Michael.”

Dad doesn’t feel sorry for me, but his eyes plead with me to behave. I nod and follow Michael out the door.

He takes me back to my room. I’m not sitting for a while, so I lay on my stomach on the bed, ready for whatever lecture he’s prepared for me. “I did not expect he would do that to you, but you did deserve it.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious. Or sorry, is that too disrespectful? Should I call you sir? Should I bow when you enter the room?” I put my head down in my arms and I start fucking crying. Everything sucks and I hate it.

When I arise from my pity part, I don’t see Michael and I start freaking inside. _Please say he didn’t go to my father again._ I notice the window’s open though, so I climb out and up to the balcony. Michael’s there and he looks, _beautiful_ with his wings spread, massive, black things that seem to glitter in the sunlight. He’s perched, looking over the city of Endelara like a sentinel. As much as he’s beautiful, he’s dangerous looking, and I understand exactly what he is, a mercenary of the Gods. I move to join him. “No.”

I sigh. “Dude I won’t fall. I’ve got you to swoop down and get me.”

He nods and I climb onto the ledge, in front of his wing on the right side. It’s warm, the wing giving off heat. There’s a new scent, a sweeter one versus the floral from before and I naturally gravitate toward his wing relaxing against it. If he minds, he doesn’t say. “I don’t want to see that again, Dean,” he says.

“Father beating my ass?”

“Yes.”

“Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that happens a lot around here. Besides, you did it too.”

“I gave you a spanking; that was a lot more than a spanking.”

“You said I deserved it.”

“You did.”

“But you don’t want to see it again…?”

“I don’t want you to deserve it. I’m going to make sure you behave.”

“I wish you luck.” I think Featherhead cracks a smile. “Soooo, what is it you want from me?”

“Swift obedience.”

I burst out laughing and slap my knee. “Sorry, Feathers. Pick your battles. I can shoot for reluctant compliance, how’s that?”

He nods. “For now.”

 _Whatever that means._ But the back of my ass and my thighs are fucking sore and this cool ledge feels nice, especially with the warmth of his wing surrounding me and the strange, sweet scent to relax me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xavier's School of Discipline [COVER REVEAL](http://dmockingbirds.com/2020/11/14/xaviers-school-cover-art-reveal/)


	5. Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> December 8, 2020  
> _______________________
> 
> Glad I had a little cache of chapters here. The Tristan II edit is slow going, even if it's going well and so writing is less than usual. But I've got some stuff half-finished! 
> 
> Has everyone recovered from the finale?
> 
> My brain keeps going wild with half-formed fics. I wrote about one I started, in my blog, but this second story is an RPF which I never write (yes, I remember 'Jared and Jensen' from TW, but I don't consider them actual J2 even if they are somewhat inspired by). Yet this RPF is popping up for me. LW got wind of this idea (I told her) and she has been providing me with inspirational material! So I wrote some, but I don't like it yet. Maybe I'll post for fun if I like it. 
> 
> All right, hope you enjoy the chapter!

“Now our son is going to marry an angel, Cas?” I say giving him the same look I used to give him when he’d claim he didn’t give Dean everything he asked for and then he was tracking down every dealer (legal and illegal) in the galaxy to find the exact make and model of aircraft Dean wanted. It wasn’t easy finding that Impala, but Dean wanted it and Cas had to find it for his baby boy.

He grunts, not wanting to answer that. “Bring me a scotch, would you, Baby?”

I roll my eyes skyward but move over to where he keeps the scotch and glasses. I pour him a few fingers and bring it over, massaging my long fingers into his neck. “Here, Daddy.”

He keeps his eyes on his device, reading over reports from his crew, still not telling me what he’s keeping from me and he’s totally keeping something from me. “Are you going to tell me what’s really going on, Cas?”

He slams his device down swearing in Old Aerian. “ _Sam._ ”

I wouldn’t be his husband if I gave in so easily. “You’re not telling me – whatever it is, because it is something – because you don’t want to worry me.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“I know you can handle it, so can I.” I grit my teeth, not budging. Cas gets these stupid ideas in his head that he’ll take care of everything, without involving me because he’s head of our house and well, head of almost everything really. I get that, I do, but when it involves Dean, I’m prying it out of him.

“You still owe me. On your knees, _hòra_.” _Hòra_ , whore in Old Aerian.

I sink to my knees. “C’mon, Daddy,” I whine as I poke around at his crotch with my mouth. “You can tell me.”

He undoes his pants and pulls out his cock. “Put this in your whore mouth, Baby.”

He’s hard and leaking already. I do that to Cas no matter the situation, or place. He’s fucked me in some pretty gruesome places because he’s overcome with it, especially after killing. It’s not that he enjoys killing per se, but he doesn’t shy from it either. It’s simply something he _does_ when he feels he needs to, but there’s still a rush of adrenaline and for Cas it makes him need to fuck me.

He made it clear when I first came to live here that as the Si’s consort, my duties would include sex and being available for said sex, be it after a job, during a job, or on a lazy morning and that duty would come first.

I love how much I turn him on. I can smell his slick and I’d love to stick my fingers up him, but he didn’t say to stick my fingers up him. For now, I swallow his cock into my mouth, letting my tongue lathe down the side. He hisses. “ _Fuck,_ Sam.”

I make it good. I’ve spent a long time learning what he likes. His hand grips my long hair at the roots, controlling me like a puppet as he shoves my mouth further down his cock. I would be choking on it, if I was Past Sam, but this Sam has learned Cas’s timing and I’ve learned how to calm my gag reflex some. I know he likes to challenge me, he likes it even more when I meet the challenge. I time my licks and sucks with his rough movements.

I think sometimes he’d like to hold back longer, but I’m _that_ good. It’s not long before he’s coming down my throat. I look up at him, his come dribbling down from the side of my lips, which I wipe away with the back of my hand. “Tell me, _Brava._ ”

“You’re stubborn like our son. Get up here.” I stand up and he casually begins undoing my pants, his cock already coming back to life. The man’s refractory period is unreal. Mine is not quite like his, which is fine with him. Fucking me while I’m soft is a huge turn on for Cas.

He yanks down my pants and pulls me in to suck on my neck as I succumb. I can’t help it, this man owns me body and soul, I give myself over to him easily. “It’s the _Chetnik_ , Sam. They want me, but Dean is more assessable than you or I because he’s _isbishna_ flitting all over the place, not being careful. They will go through him to get to me.”

An icy shift takes over my body and I get it now, why Cas chose Michael for Dean, why he wants him to always be with Dean. “Do you regret asking? On the desk, _Svenska_ ,” he says.

I hop my bare ass onto his desk and lay back, spreading wide for him; I’m wet and he can slip in easily. Sex is good for working out your frustrations, for forgetting things you don’t want to remember. But Cas isn’t letting go, he’s thinking about it, which is why he fucks into me roughly. “Don’t worry, Baby. I’ll kill them all. And if I can stop worrying about our foolish son long enough, it will be possible.”

Cas’s eyes are haunted again, I don’t know if that will ever go away, even with every last _Chetnik_ dead. What they did to him was horrific. He was eight years old. They tied him up in a cold basement and treated him like an animal. Cas got himself out after two months of torture and it was one of the times the old Aryai was proud of him. It’s probably what made Cas candidate for future Aryai. Cas is the eldest, but the title didn’t have to go to him. The Aryai chooses who will make the best future Aryai.

Once Cas was chosen, he had no choice.

Cas has no intention of choosing Dean. He tells Dean it’s because he’s too soft, which is not meant as an insult, but Dean takes it that way, thinking he’s not worthy. It’s not about worthiness. As much of a little prick as he can be, Dean’s got a thread of kindness in him you can’t have and be Aryai. It’s not that he can’t hold his own, or isn’t tough as nails, you don’t grow up raised by Castiel Novak a saint, unable to take care of yourself, but he’s not like Cas as much as he’d like to be. As much as he’d need to be to become Aryai.

I sit up, Cas still fucking into me and I grip onto Cas’s neck. “You are a good, _Baba_. _Dean couldn’t have better,_ ” I say in Old Aerian, my accent still not as deep as Cas’s even after all these years. “ _You have done well._ ”

As menacing as Cas is, he yearns for my approval, it drives him crazy when he thinks he might not have it. The haunted look vanishes, and he brightens, well brightens for Cas. “See? Daddy takes care of things.”

“Daddy does.” I lean in for a wet kiss.

When Cas has finally exhausted his cock, _for now_ , he sips his scotch half-naked, his shirt hanging over his ass, as I redress. “I’m liking the idea of Michael for Dean all the time,” Cas says.

“What are your reservations?”

“What is the angel going to want? If the angel thinks he’s taking Dean away from here, he’s got another thing coming. I would hate to be forced to have the angel killed, with how useful he’s proven.”

Cas will do that without a thought. “I think Michael’s sense of honor is too heavily geared toward ‘obeying thy father’.”

“Still, I need to be certain.”

I’m well aware that other families are all, ‘let your kids go, they need to live their own lives.’ But Cas doesn’t trust Dean to live his own life and, I’m kinda with Cas on that one. Besides, I’m _that_ birthing Father, the one who doesn’t want his only baby gone from the nest and I know my son. Dean would like it for a solid thirty days and then he’d be back.

“I’m shocked you’re considering anyone.”

“I don’t like it,” he says downing his scotch. “Dean belongs to me. This angel bond sounds territorial.”

“I was going to get some books from Dad. Maybe if Dean goes, he could bring some back and we could look into it further?”

“Is that how you ask me permission for Dean now?”

I smirk. “No. But I was going to ask you. He wants to go, but in light of this news, maybe it’s not best.”

Cas surprises me. “No. He may go. Seeing his Grampa will be good for him, the angel should be enough. But no more than four days.”

“If you’re sure. He’ll like that. Thank you, _Brava_.” I finish tucking in my shirt and lean in for a kiss, sucking his lips in and then pressing mine together with his.

“Where you off to?”

“I have to oversee that shipment of Cron, then I’ll come back to you, Daddy.”

He yanks me in for yet another kiss. “I don’t know why I allow you to go anywhere at all. Your place is here beside me.”

If Cas had his way, I wouldn’t go anywhere. Yeah, because he’s a controlling psychopath, but also – and he’ll never admit this out loud – I’m a bit like a security blanket for him. Cas is uneasy when I’m not by him. A lot of shit gets destroyed and security detail thrown into walls when I’m not with him. “Because you know only I can handle the big shipments.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t take, long, _Svenska_.”

“You know I’m never gone long.”

~**~

Things are tense at best for the rest of the day, so I decide on not going too far. On the first floor is a shooting range. I head down to work on some target practice, once Michael deems it’s safe, which is fucking stupid by the way, because I haven’t even left the damn building. The only security detail who comes close to Michael, for level of ridiculous neurosis, is Henry an older, ex-Aerian military guy. He was kinda strict on what he’d allow and harder to talk into things. He did not take my shit and I kind of respected him for it.

But Michael takes his job to another level. I can’t help but wonder why an angel would take me on as a job. Okay, yeah, _gold_ , I’m sure Father’s paying him handsomely, but he’s an angel, can’t he just, I dunno, steal it? Make it appear as if from nowhere with his blue light magic shit? I think about these things as I focus on my target.

Michael is like an ominous shadow to my left behind me. This may be an odd thing to say, but I can _feel_ him there. And yeah, I know. Most people can feel when someone’s behind them, but it’s more than that. It’s similar to knowing what someone looks like, they have features you recognize that tell you it’s them. Michael seems to have a _feeling_ about him that tells me it’s him. _I wonder if he can tell it’s me?_

“You ever shoot a blaster?” I ask him.

He doesn’t answer. Right, that stupid no talking rule. I fucking hate that shit, but Father won’t budge on it. “What’s wrong with talking to them, _Baba_?” I’ve asked him countless times.

“That’s too familiar. They have no reason to speak to you beyond their job,” he tells me every time. Of course, I push, which results in Father unleashing a long string of Old Aerian, which just sounds more aggressive than common Aerian and I know that means he’s at his end, and to shut the fuck up.

In any case, he’s never relented, but I wonder if he would with Michael?

For now, I’m no stranger to talking to someone who I know won’t answer back. Enter Grampa Winchester. I can usually count on two hands what he says to me during any one visit. Okay, that might be an exaggeration, but it’s not a lot. Plus, just because they’re not allowed to talk to me, the same rule doesn’t apply me to them. I’ve always nattered on endlessly to my security detail.

Father’s not wrong. Talking _does_ create more familiarity, which I don’t think is a bad thing. And when I talk on and on like I do at them, they eventually crack, it’s just a matter of time. Oh how I’d like to crack the archangel.

I tell Michael all about my shooting experiences and how I used to compete in air rifle competitions. “Air rifle competitions are done up like obstacle courses, which are different depending on the terrain. I’ve done them on terrain ranging from ice, to stifling heat. Where are you from by the way? Have you lived on this planet long? I wonder if Grampa knows.” Just because he can’t answer the questions, doesn’t mean I don’t ask them. Besides, if you want someone to eventually talk to you, ask them questions. If you want to annoy someone into talking to you, make statements about them you know will piss them off. Everyone’s got an ego, most people’s worst enemy is their ego, it’s hard for them to resist, especially with the shit I say. All things I’ve learned via trial and error from _years_ of this.

He’s quiet, but he watches me, both eyes fixed, even though I can tell they’re looking everywhere, all at once. I talk and talk and talk some more, making deadly shots, asking him all kinds of stuff he never answers until suddenly, I feel him move up behind me. He holds his hand out for my blaster and it doesn’t _feel_ like he’s confiscating it, so I hand it over. “Stand over there,” he says.

I stand back, well out of his way. No one else is here, so he uses his angel mojo to move the plexi-guards separating each station out of the way. Targets are set at the end of each station, graphic 3D images, you can program to move and shift, for practice hitting a moving target. Michael sets them all to the most intricate level of motion they can use, _all_ ten of them.

My heart starts to beat faster, I can hear it thudding in my ears.

He takes three full tibianna gas cartridges and sets them on the ledge. He releases the empty cartridge, loads it with the full one and surveys the landscape, ten graphics moving, all different creatures, including Aerian, and holds the blaster by his side, waiting for something.

The whole time, his focus is rocksteady and I can’t help but think of Grampa and way he polishes his guns and other weapons. I start to breathe heavier, waiting for a moment I don’t know _when_ is coming.

Then it happens and it’s so fast, my brain can barely register it’s happening. Michael empties the cartridge, which is something, they hold about two hundred rounds. From the outside, it looks like he’s shooting random shots all around the room, but I doubt it, not with the way he’s looking down the lanes. He has to move and turn his body, rotating and contorting to make various shots and when he runs out of ammunition, he drops the cartridge and reloads making it look easy. I can see all his hits are critical by the colors that light up on each graphic. _Wow._ He’s amazing to watch and I do with my mouth hanging open, feeling my dick harden.

This is turning me on. I want him to fuck me yeah, but I want more than that. I want to feel his lips against mine. I never think about shit like that. Sure I do it, I kiss Connie all the time, I kissed Yaunda, I kiss all the men I fuck, but I don’t _yearn_ for it. Fuck this.

My brain starts firing on all cylinders again and I see he’s loading his last cartridge. It’s time to test him, like I would Grampa. He can do all this fancy footwork with graphics who aren’t fighting back, but what if there was a distraction?

What I do is fucking dirty and dangerous – don’t try this at home kids – not something you do when someone has a gun in their hands, I well could get shot, but I _have_ to know. Not for any particular reason I could tell you, just a burning need to know… something. “Michael, help!” I cry and I make it really good. Like someone’s fucking taking me.

He doesn’t have to think about it. In a move no Aerian could make, with speed I’ve never witnessed before, he hops onto the ledge and then back flips off the counter. While he’s in midair, his wings start to open and by the time he lands, he’s got his blaster-free arm around me like a vise and his wings are in full spread, forming a protective wall between me and anything harmful. _Hey, I wonder if these things are bullet proof?_

I’m breathing heavy, I think I’m going to pass out but the adrenaline pounding through me keeps me upright. Michael, still in the heat of battle, fires his final bullets at the graphics, making two near to impossible shots (at this angle), hitting the final critical points on two separate graphics.

My dick is hard, my ass is wet. I need him to fuck me. Of course, none of that happens.

He closes his wings and he’s _super_ fucking unimpressed. He releases me and we both stand up. “Before you kill me, I just wanted to see if you could. What if we were in the height of battle and we got separated?”

“I could have hurt you or shot you.”

“No. Maybe if you were only Aerian, but not you.”

“Do _not_ do that again,” he says handing me my now unloaded firearm and when it’s in my hand, he hauls off and lands several crisp whacks to my backside, which is still aching from the strapping I took from Father.

They bring tears to my eyes even though, _yeah_ they fucking hurt, but they’re not anything for a near thirty-year-old man to cry about. I can feel how upset he is over what I did, and I feel, _chagrin_.

“It’s time for lunch,” he says and walks off expecting me to follow.

~**~

I can’t shake what I’m feeling, and I don’t like it. Since the shooting range incident, Michael’s been quiet. Yes, he’s not supposed to talk to me, but it’s a different kind of quiet. He doesn’t move, he’s ridged, and he feels unlike him.

I’m pretty good at reading people, especially body language, a skill I’ve mastered from having people who say little to me; I’ve had to decipher what they weren’t saying. I know when someone’s judging me, and thinking badly of me, but I’ve never fucking cared about what they thought.

Until fucking Michael and it’s pissing me off.

I can’t stand it. It feels like ants crawling over me. “I just wanted to know if you were any good. Yeah, you’re an archangel, but my father is Si-Novak and well you know Grampa Winchester. You need to be half as good as them.”

He sits up taller his eyes forming slits. I think I’ve insulted him. Good. He can feel how I feel. Maybe _I’m_ judging _him_.

My parents almost miss lunch until Father shows, tie-less, which means he’s been fucking Dad. I’m not sure if I’m forgiven yet, so I tread carefully, still feeling my ass from this morning. “You’re still home?”

“I was doing some shooting practice, _Baba._ ”

“I see. Dad mentioned you wanted to go off planet to see, Grampa.”

I freeze. Yeah I was all, _“I’m a nearly thirty-year-old tough guy who can ask his own father about where I can and can’t go_ , especially since most nearly thirty-year-olds don’t have to ask, but now I can’t speak. Michael’s watching us, like maybe he might curious or something. I don’t know. Sometimes that guy’s easy to read and other times it’s hard.

“Yes sir,” I manage. “If you think it’s a good idea.”

Father peers at me like he’s never seen me before, glances toward Michael briefly and then to me again. “You may go _Baba Shi Shiva._ I want you back in four days. Michael stays with you.”

I nod. “Thank you, _Baba_.”

“I think Dad’s jealous,” he says helping himself to scotch.

“What’s Dad jealous of?” Dad says bounding into the kitchen. Sometimes he’s a total badass and other times he’s like an overgrown puppy.

“Me visiting, Grampa.”

“Awww, yeah, I’m jealous,” Dad says. Father looks up at him with his eyes only, not moving his head, working on making his drink. He cracks a softer smile and I see it, what Dad was talking about. He is feeling more relaxed with this Michael thing. “There’s something I want you to bring home for me though.”

Later, Connie has to cancel coming over. “I’ve puked like seven times in the past five hours, Dean. I’m going to bed.”

That leaves me free, I’m not staying around here. I scroll through my communicator, I’ve got several invites. In the spirit of trying not to piss my father off, I pick the least obnoxious one, but let’s be real, there are no non-obnoxious ones.

A place where Father’s hands are tied is when it’s other _families’_ kids. Not that he can’t pull the plug on any outing or friendship, but if it’s not overly volatile (which is a relative term here), he’s better to let it happen. If any one family feels disrespected in some way, we’ll hear about it.

I have to put on a suit for this one, and it’s RVSP, so I let the organizer know I’m coming. Michael notices I’m getting dolled up, he’s interested, but he won’t ask. I have to tell him anyway, so I explain more than he probably wants to know. “Tonya and Tony, the Favara twins are having a shindig. I really should go. It’s in Cosme, not too far. It’s going to be a late one though. I’ll make sure to eat lots before I go and when I’m there.” Because I’ll probably be drinking a shit ton, I don’t say and other things.

But shit, I’m going to need money. The buy-in for these things is high and I’m nearly wiped clean from buying Nicholas back. It’s so fucking degrading having to ask for money when you’re a thirty-year-old man. I dress real cute, forgoing the tie and leaving some buttons open, combing my hair into a part.

I catch that scent again, the more floral one, the one that starts turning me the fuck on and I look up, catching Michael’s eyes just before he looks away. _He was staring at me._ I have a flash of him earlier today, moving gracefully, so focused, so powerful. Fuck, now I’m staring. I have to look away too. “Yeah, so anyway, Grampa’s, eh? You know I was wondering how long you two have known each other? I’ll ask him.” I’m chattering like five-year-old me to Grampa, because I know Michael doesn’t fucking like me – well, other than my hot bod – and I have to live with this guy up my ass (not in the way I’d like) for the foreseeable future.

I get a response and the note about the buy-in. It’s a fucking stupid amount for what’s basically a party ticket, but I know the other guests will have paid more. Most _families_ like being on our good side. I seek out Dad, Michael in tow and am disappointed to learn he’s in their bedroom, which is always dangerous, but Father’s not there, so I’m safe from seeing some kind of kinky sex thing. I leave Michael outside the door and save him Dad laying on the bed with a book, half-naked – he’s wearing Father’s white, long-sleeved shirt, open.

I don’t look down. “I need some gold for tonight,” I tell him.

“Oh? Where you going?” But he’s already reaching for his communicator.

“Favara’s thing.”

“You’ll need quite a bit then.”

“Yeah, but it’s the least obnoxious event going.” Dad looks at me funny, and then returns to sending money to my account. “What?”

“That’s considerate,” he says. “Since when are you that considerate?”

Yeah, I guess I’m usually trying to find the most fun, which is the most obnoxious. “I feel like being able to sit sometime this week,” I tell him.

He smiles. “Will you be gone all night?”

“If Michael lets me.”

He laughs. “Have fun.”

When I get to the aircraft, I see that Dad gave me way more than he needed to. Ugh, he trusts me and I’m starting to think that maybe I shouldn’t be trusted. This is the kind of shit that causes huge fights between my parents. I can’t believe I’m going to do this, but, “Michael, I need you to do something for me.”

“Yes, Ser-Novak?”

His voice sinks into me, I almost forgot what he sounded like. _Gods_ it’s fantastic. “After I pay to get in, everything’s provided; food, booze, drugs, everything except gambling buy-ins. I won’t need my communicator and I’m gonna need you to take it from me and not give it back until we’re at home – no matter what drunk me says.”

The muscles of his face contract, he really doesn’t like me getting tuned, but he doesn’t say anything about it. “I can do that.”

“I warn you, drunk, high me is very persuasive,” I say giving him a flirty smile.

He relaxes and I get a hit of that other scent, the sweeter one. Maybe that’s angel for happy. “I shall endeavor to resist you, Ser-Novak.” I almost get a smile out of him. _Almost._ Yep, I’m gonna go with that scent means angel for happy, especially when I’m feeling pretty happy as it surrounds me too.

In fact, I’m feeling so happy _and_ responsible, I pour myself a drink to get started. Michael looks out the window.

When we arrive, I pay the buy-in and someone takes my long coat. Before we go into the party, Michael’s hand is on my shoulder and for a brief, _stupid_ moment, I think he’s turning me around to kiss me. Why would I think that when he’s given no indication he’s going to submit to his primal urges? I don’t know. But I fucking do and I’m disappointed when it’s just to retrieve my communicator, like I asked him to. “Yeah here,” I say slapping it into his hand, like I’m mad about it.

He scowls at me but remains quiet and tucks my communicator into his jacket.

The Favara twins are excited to see me. “Dean, you came,” Tonya says.

“Hey Dean,” Tony greets.

Both of them have the hots for me, I’m only really into Tony. The night is the usual; get wasted, do a little Cron which ends up making me pretty fucking high. What I don’t do is gamble, until I do that is. But I don’t have money for the buy-in. “S’okay, Novak. We know you’re good for it,” Teddy says.

“Heh-heh, deal’em up then,” I say.

That’s when Michael steps in. “Ser-Novak, a word please?”

“Kinda busy,” I tell him.

“Dean, get your boyfriend away from the table. You know the rules,” Ted says.

“You heard him, Baby,” I slur. “This is cheatin’.”

He yanks me up by the wrist and I’m dragged far away from the High Rowdlan table, to a corner of the room that gives the illusion of privacy even though people are all around us. “Are you still in there?” he says.

“Lemme gooooo, Michael,” I hiss. “You’re embarrassing me. This isn’t the penthouse where you can drag me around.”

“ _Watch_ me.”

He doesn’t move though, it’s threat at the moment, but even my drunken ass knows he’ll make true on it. I go with another tactic. I take his tie and give it a gentle tug. Apparently, people think he’s my boyfriend, anyway. Maybe we went off to make out.

I don’t know what I thought he was going to do, but it’s not what he ends up doing, which is slam me into the wall, with his hand beside my face. He’s feral and my heart pulses faster, pushing my thinned blood around faster. I’m also pretty high, I feel like I’m floating. “It’s time to go home,” he says.

“Okay, but you gotta find my, my blazer. Left it somewhere.” I fall against him, having a hard time standing up anymore.

He catches me; I’m overwhelmed with scent, but it’s a new one, not sweet or floral. I’m not sure what to call it exactly, but I think it smells like worry. “I’m sure you have another one at home.”

“No. I’m not walkin’ through here like this Michael.” It’s important for some reason.

He thinks about it, probably going over possible scenarios in his head and wanting to choose, ‘least likely to make a scene’. He starts removing his blazer. “Here, we’ll put this on you. Better?”

“Yes, but I need one more thing,” I slur. “I’ll come with you nice and quiet-like if yah kiss me.”

“Not happening. But I’m about five seconds away from carrying you out of here over my shoulder.”

Man, I want to punch him in his stupid face. I might yet. “Yeah, fine.”

But as I move, my stomach lets go everything I ate in the past hour. I nearly puke on Michael, but instead it’s just onto the Favara’s expensive carpet. I have to brace myself, so I don’t fall over. Cron can be rough. This is where having an archangel comes in handy. He’s able to mojo all the puke away. “Michael. You might have to carry me after all,” I say. At least I think I say. I don’t remember a whole bunch after that.

~**~

I head down to the kitchen early with promise to Cas I’d procure us coffee. I don’t expect Mimi to be up yet, so I’ll have to make it myself, but someone’s already beat me to the kitchen. Michael’s there and he’s struggling with the lid to the coffee canister, growing frustrated. “Aren’t you like, really strong?”

“I’m attempting not to break it. Why will it not open?”

I hold my hand out for it, _twist_ it open and then hand it back. “I’m assuming you don’t know how to make coffee either.”

He frowns. “No. But how hard can it be?”

“A lot harder than opening the coffee jar. You know we usually have Mimi for stuff like this if you wait an hour, we pay her handsomely. But you’re in luck and I came to make some anyway.”

“If you could show me, I would appreciate that.”

I pull out what I need for the coffee. “I’m assuming since you’ve clearly never had coffee before, this is for my son, which begs the question, why are you trying to make coffee for him, Michael? That’s not your job.”

He blushes, head to toe. “I… Well that is… He seems to like this stuff.”

I get a fun, tingly sensation. _A boy likes my son._ A mercenary of the Gods ‘boy’ but still, it’s rare I get to be on this end of it. Sure, my son brings lots of guys home and sometimes they eat breakfast with us, and I can _see_ how much they like Dean, but none of those relationships could go anywhere. There’s also Constantine, who I know adores my son, but same there, Cas isn’t going to let Dean bond with a Farrarah.

But he’s _considering_ Michael.

“And do you think if you make him coffee, he might like you a little bit?” I prod. I can’t help myself. I’ve always wanted to have this moment; I might not get another one.

“I just don’t want him to hate me. If we do bond, well I thought… never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

“C’mon. Tell me what you thought.”

He watches what I do with the reusable filter and how much coffee I spoon inside. “I was looking forward to meeting my profound bond, I was hoping we’d get along and at the very least, I wanted to take him to meet Father if that was a possibility. Father is very busy, but I had hoped one day.”

I pause. “Which God is your father?”

“Aro.”

Holy shit. He’s one of _the_ Gods revered around here. But I’m not sure Cas is going to let his little (adult) boy, fly past the Pleiades Star Cluster to meet Aro. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. “Dean doesn’t hate you, Michael. He’s just a fucking brat who wants his way and you’re the wall stopping him.”

“I apologize, I am being too familiar, Skyr-Novak. I should go check on Dean.”

“You know those rules don’t apply to me, just to Dean because he tries to fuck everything that moves.” I’m glad my son’s handsome, but he really might be too handsome.

Michael’s frown deepens to a scowl and he suddenly becomes very talkative. “I’m going to have a word with Father. I don’t understand why he gave me such a promiscuous mate. I don’t like it much. Every time he’s with someone else, I want to blast them apart.”

Yikes. That can’t be good. “Michael, when you form this _bond_ , would Dean become yours?”

He looks at his hands then back at me. “Yes.”

Well, Cas is not going to like that, but for me? He fumbled with a coffee canister for who knows how long so he could attempt to bring my probably hungover son, coffee. I don’t even think he knows what coffee tastes like.

“Coffee doesn’t seem hard to make. I think I can manage this,” he says.

“Again, we have Mimi who is paid to do this. You don’t _have_ to do this, Michael.”

He nods. “I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not like I can tell him I made it. He’ll assume it was Mimi.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“No. That wouldn’t be right, Sykr-Novak. There is no difference passing messages back and forth than talking to him. It’s a way of skirting the rule and I will not do it. I want to continue to be considered.”

Okay fine, but I can tell Dean what I observe. One thing’s for sure, Cas does not have to worry about Michael not respecting his rules. Now just to get this ‘Michael would own Dean,’ thing figured out. “C’mon. Let’s make Dean some bacon and toast. He loves that when he’s had a lot to drink.”

Michael smiles.

~**~

I wake up to the smell of coffee and bacon. But fuck, my head’s pounding. I roll over and Michael’s sitting there, watching over me. “Oh fuck. What are you doing here?” I’m already rolling over.

“You continued to puke through the night. I made sure you didn’t asphyxiate.”

“Thanks, bruh. Now, uh, give me some privacy, or whatever, eh?”

“No.”

“I’m real tired of you telling me no. I’m fine. Not gonna choke on my own puke and die. Now fucking go.” I remember belatedly that I’m supposed to be less of a dick, so he won’t resign again. “Please.” That’s the best I can do considering the circumstances.

I feel the sheets being ripped away and his hand connects to my ass, which has a pair of pajama pants on it. He continues in his relentless manner until I’m apologizing. “Sorry. I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” I try to cover my ass.

He stops spanking me and my body sags, relieved. He fans the covers back over me and I don’t mean to fall back to sleep, but I do. Michael doesn’t wake me. I wake up later, sometime in the afternoon feeling a world better. My breakfast has been replaced with lunch and I don’t see Michael anywhere, but the window’s open and I know where he’s gone. I pad out, in bare feet to the balcony. He’s there again, with his gorgeous wings spread and I wonder this time if he’s doing something to them. Do wings need vitamin D or something? Not like he’ll tell me. I add that to my mental list of things I need to ask Grampa when I see him. Maybe he’s got a book on angels. If I’m going to have one, I should learn how to water and feed it right?

I climb onto the ledge and since he didn’t seem to mind last time, I lean against his wing again, only this time, I press myself into it for warmth. It’s cold up here today and his wing is like a heated blanket. When I do that, a hefty dose of that sweet scent is released and I swear I feel his wing tighten around me, just a little. “I was an ass earlier, and yesterday and I’ll probably be one in about five minutes from now. I’m sorry.”

He nods but continues to stare at something.

“What you lookin’ at?” He points to the building across from us. Inside is a child who’s staring back at Michael, probably fascinated with his giant wings. I wave. “Hey little guy.”

That gives me at least seventy-trillion new question ideas. I want to know if angels have babies and if so, how does that work? I ask him my questions for at least an hour. He doesn’t answer a single one, not even with a nod or a headshake. It’s one thing to point at something, which I guess he should really be careful of too around my father but nodding and headshaking is still an answer and Father doesn’t just want to be obeyed literally, but also in the spirit of his directives. Head nodding and headshaking are preferred, and Michael will be trusted to use his best judgement, but ultimately, he needs to be careful with all of it.

It’s really fucking frustrating.

I’m starting to be able to read him a bit though. It’s only been a few days, but it’s something I’m good at and I dunno, Michael’s easier for me to read than others in past. There’s a feel of him, an impression in the air and while I can’t begin to know half of what he means by how he acts, I feel connected to him.

For once, I don’t need to talk and we’re _both_ quiet for a stretch of time. When I shiver, he wraps his wing around me tighter. Eventually, my stomach growls and ruins our moment. “It is time for you to eat, Ser-Novak,” he says rising and putting his wings away. I don’t know where they go, but once they are closed, you can’t see them at all, like they’ve melted into his skin. He hops down and then reaches to lift me off the ledge.

Normally I’d complain that I could do it myself, but I’m already feeling the loss of his wing and I’m happy to have him touch me for longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to mention, borrowed from the Star Wars verse as far as how laser guns work, since I didn’t have a clue. 🤷♀️


	6. Elevator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> December 30, 2020  
> ______________________
> 
> How's everyone doing out there? I promise I'm still around. Tristan II: A Brat's Tale, took me a little longer than I thought with everything. It's going well though. I will try to blog about updates tomorrow. I'm just too tired right now and need to go crash. 
> 
> But I wanted to give you this. 
> 
> Hope you all have a Happy New Year! Goodbye 2020.

I have to check on Connie. It’s been too many days and he’s gone silent. I really should have gone over sooner, but I’ve had my own shit to deal with. Michael and I jump in an aircraft of our own rather than hail a driver, now that Father’s relaxed rules some and head over to Mor Town. I feel like I know Michael better from sitting on our truce spot together.

That’s the ledge, and somehow curled into his wing like that, I don’t want to punch him in the face.

But when he put me over his knee for lipping him off again just before dinner, the desire to punch him in the face came right back. His spankings _stay_ with me, not just because they hurt, because they get inside me somehow. I wonder if that’s to do with this angel mojo?

In any case, I don’t reach for my usual road pop, knowing Michael will just confiscate it anyway, but also feeling like I want to not drink it because it bothers him. Which is weird. It’s not like he’s my boyfriend. He’s my father’s weird-ass version of security detail, ‘cause this is fucking weird, even for him.

“See, not drinking beer and I really fucking want a beer man,” I say to him.

His outside expression is, well, expression-less, but the aircraft _fills_ with that scent, the sweet one, or as I now call it, ‘the one that doesn’t turn me on’. I elbow him. “Knew that would make you happy, Feathers.”

He swivels his body so he’s facing me. He doesn’t say a word, but I’m starting to read him some. “Yeah, I figured out what your scent stuff means.”

His eyes widen. He’s on the edge of speaking to me. Yeah I’m gonna push. This time it’s just because I really want to talk to him. There’s so much I want to know about him. “I figured out the flowery one is for when you’re horny, which for your information, turns me on too – _a lot_ – and I’m totally down to fuck. There’s a third I’m beginning to detect. I don’t know how to describe the scent, but I think it means you’re worried about me.”

He grabs my free arm and I swerve the aircraft. “Jeez Michael. I thought you were trying to keep me alive?”

“When did that start to happen?”

“I dunno. Like, pretty much right away…?”

He lets go my arm, which is good, I have to rub out the ache from where his fingers left imprints and sits back. I think he says some kind of swear word. I don’t understand the language, but it’s pretty easy to figure out when someone’s swearing at you even in another language. He’s definitely panicked about something, not that he’ll tell me.

I leave it and pull up to Connie’s _family’s_ apartment.

We go through the usual security checks to enter the building and when we get upstairs, Mrs. Fararrah is there in a beautiful red dress, with bright red lipstick, her hair swooping across her forehead and down to her shoulders on one side, with it curled behind her ear on the other. She’s known me since I was born. “Dean, baby,” she says. “You looking for Connie? He’s in his room.”

Mrs. Fararrah is Connie’s mom, but she didn’t have Connie, his dad did. Connie has a Father and a Dad like I do. There are a lot of children in the Fararrah family with Mr. Fararrah having two spouses. I know my way around the place well, so I head to Connie’s room and knock. “It’s me, dude.”

“Come in, Dean.”

When I go in, I don’t fucking like what I see. Connie’s looking white as death and he’s bent over his bed puking into a bucket. I race over to him. “Connie, what the fuck? Why are you in here all alone?”

“I told everyone I had the flu and to stay out.”

“You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

“I can’t keep much down.”

“You need to see a medic. I don’t think this is normal.”

“Unfortunately, it’s very normal for a male pregnancy. Ask your dad,” he snaps at me.

“Okay. Whoa. But you look like you’re dying.”

“Just, get me a cloth with warm water, okay?”

He looks so pitiful. I go do as bid wondering what the fuck I should do. I left Michael outside, because no one knows about the Connie situation and he didn’t insist to check the place out this time, so he must be relaxing some. But I’m thinking, could Michael use some of his angel mojo to help Connie somehow? Would he if he could? I don’t know. My best option might be convincing Connie to go to see a healer. I bring the cloth to him. “Where’s Rylan? If that asshole is leaving you like this…”

“I don’t know where Rylan is,” he admits. “He has been by, but he left and hasn’t come back.”

“I’m going to hunt that fucker down and bring him here. He did this to you.”

“Dean, don’t.” But his voice is so weak, it’s easy to disregard.

“Fuck you. He should be here looking after you. I’m going.”

“No!” His eyes fill with tears. “Please don’t leave me alone. I was looking forward to you being here.”

My anger wants to ram through a wall, but Connie’s face stops me. “Yeah, I’m stayin’. Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart.”

I force Connie into a hot bath, which I pour a generous amount of bath salts into and while he soaks there, I call for foods that won’t hurt his stomach like broth and crackers. Then I go out to communicate with Michael, so he doesn’t have a fit. “Look, I’m gonna be awhile. That’s gonna suck for you standing out here. Why don’t you go introduce yourself around or something? They’ve got like a staffroom sort of deal for the rest of the house security. Go make a friend.”

I’m pissing him off again – surprised there isn’t a scent for that – I’m sure he doesn’t like my bossy tone. “My job is to protect you; I will stay here.”

I almost feel bad enough to invite him in, but I can’t do that and fuck him for being so stubborn. I drag a chair out for him. “Here. I know to you something like standing probably doesn’t make you tired, or whatever, but I’ll feel better about it.”

He tilts his head, curious about me and the innerworkings of my mind. He nods and takes the chair, sitting in it, which says something without words though I’m not quite sure what. Whatever it is, I don’t have time to figure it out. Connie’s calling me. “Dean. Deeeeean, _bucket!_ ”

I run to help him. I wash him up, dress him in one of his favorite pink, silk robes, comb out his hair, feed him broth and crackers and then undress so I can curl around him comfortably. He passes out, able to sleep now that he doesn’t have to take care of himself and I lie awake wondering what the fuck I’m going to do.

I’m kinda pissed, because this isn’t my fucking problem, but it’s become my fucking problem. One thing’s for sure and it’s that Rylan needs to be here, looking after his baby daddy, or I’m going to rip his lungs out.

~**~

I see him sitting on a chair outside of Connie’s room. The man looks forlorn, no, maybe distraught is a better term. He’s Dean’s new security detail – I feel sorry for all who end up in that role – which explains his expression. And Dammit Castiel, you always have to pick the devastatingly handsome ones, don’t you?

I walk over to the poor boy. I know what he is, and that he is no boy, but they all feel that way to me when they’re like this. “Michael, hi. I came to introduce myself. I’m Mrs. Fararrah, but you may call me Jasmine.”

He stands up, the perfect gentleman, his voice deep and if I didn’t already suspect he had someone in mind, I might try to pull this one into my bed. Abel, Carson and I have an open relationship. “Mrs. Fararrah. Nice to meet you,” he says.

“Good. Come have coffee with me. You do drink coffee don’t you?”

“I don’t drink or eat anything.”

“But can you?”

“I can.”

“Good, come.” I don’t give him the chance to decline and walk away. I can hear him frustrated behind me.

“Mrs. Fararrah, I cannot leave my post.”

I look behind me and shake my head. “Not true. I know how Castiel works. You are not required to stand outside that door. Come.”

He huffs, but he follows. I call for some coffee and biscuits and gesture for Michael to sit. He’s angry, wanting to get back to Dean, but he’s being ridiculous. Dean could be in there all night; he can’t sit in front of a doorway all night. “Do you take cream or sugar in your coffee?”

“I’ve never had it.”

“I’ll make it taste good for you. In the meantime, tell me, what’s that expression about on your face?”

“That is personal, ma’am.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart, you can’t call me ‘ma’am’, not unless you want me to drag you off to my bedroom and I don’t think you want that, do you?”

“No.”

The coffee comes and I add a mixture of cream and sugar to his and hand it to him. “I know a bit about angels, and I know a lot about Dean. I held that boy in my arms when he was a few days old.”

He perks up at the mention of Dean. “Do you have any stories about him?” he asks.

“I do. Here, try one of these, honey. I’ll tell you some Dean tales that will have even you crying tears from laughter.”

~**~

I open my eyes, realizing I fell asleep too. Connie is stirring. “How you feeling, sweetheart?”

He stretches. “So much better. How did you know to do all that?”

“I remember Dad saying what helped him when he was carrying me,” I tell him moving hair from his eyes.

“Well, Dean Novak, I guess I don’t know everything about you, but ugh, I do know with certainty your next trip is to hunt Rylan down and that I can’t stop you.”

“You can’t stop me. I’m bringing that mother fucker here. Have you told your parents yet?”

“I confided in, Mom.”

“And?”

“She told me to get rid of it. I know she was only thinking of me, I know I probably should, but I love him already. I can’t do it.”

“At the rate you’re going, you’re going to lose the baby,” I say.

“I know.” He tears up.

“Look, for now you gotta take better care of yourself,” I say getting up.

He sits up, watching me put on a shirt and get dressed. “I’m going to go call for some more stuff and I’ve got to check in with Michael.”

“Wow, check in with Michael? What has this guy done to you?”

“Shut up. I can’t fight him or believe me I wouldn’t bother checking in.”

“Yeah, okay Dean.”

“Fuck off.”

I know I told Michael to go find the staffroom, or whatever, but no way he did. So imagine my surprise when I open to the room and he’s not there? I’m _fuck_ , I’m gutted okay? I don’t know why I should be. I wanted him to fuck off and now he has. _Whatever._ Since I’m out here, I walk to the kitchen myself to grab a few things for Connie. As I approach, I hear laughing.

When I see who it is, the Novak anger rushes through me, full force. _My_ blue-eyed, black-winged archangel is _laughing_ with Mrs. Fararrah who’s _stunning_ by the way. They’re laughing and talking and generally friendly, which he’s not with me. Doesn’t even fucking talk to me.

I don’t like any of it. My body gets that feeling again, like ants crawling all over it and I want to set everything on fire. “Michael. Where the _fuck_ have you been? You said you’d be outside the door. You should have been outside the Gods damn door.” No I haven’t forgotten what I said about him going off on his own, but fuck all that.

“Mrs. Fararrah offered me coffee,” he says like that’s supposed to explain everything.

“We need to go, _now_ ,” I say storming away from him and you know what? I don’t care if he follows or not. It’s better I deal with Rylan on my own anyway.

Of course, it’s not long before he’s almost there behind me. But does he have an apology for me? NoooOooooh. “That was rude. You didn’t say goodbye to Mrs. Fararrah.”

“I don’t give a fuck about Mrs. Fararrah. You were supposed to look after me, not flirt with Connie’s mom.”

“Is that what you think was happening? Dean I would _never_.”

“Except you did.” I’m done with him. Why do I care anyway? “You know what? Stop talking. You’re not supposed to talk to me. I like things better that way.”

I keep walking through the halls and he’s quietly fuming behind me, but when we get to the elevator, I’m suddenly accosted by a ‘who-knows-how-old’ archangel. He slams me against the elevator wall and I vaguely see wings spring out. It’s dark when his lips meet mine.

It’s a kiss unlike any I’ve had before—and believe me, I’ve kissed a lot of men. It’s raw and it’s violent, but it also manages some gentleness. There’s a mix of the floral and sweet scents, which overwhelm my senses and it’s not long before I’m grinding against him. All the moments in my life have collided to form this one, I know it. My heart swells; I can barely breathe.

When he pulls away, we stare at each other, neither of us knowing what the fuck that was. His wings fold and disappear, the elevator opens, and we adjust ourselves as we walk out. It feels like everyone knows what we just did, but that’s not likely. Michael and I can’t look at each other.

When we’re alone in the aircraft, I grill him. “What was that?”

“Where are you going? This isn’t the way home.”

“Answer the question.”

“Not until you tell me where you’re going.”

“Ugh, look I’ve got to take care of something in Little Ylati. It won’t take long.” He nods. “Now answer.”

“It was a kiss, Ser-Novak.”

“ _Michael._ You can’t just go around kissing someone in an elevator like, like, like _that_.”

“I wouldn’t, Ser-Novak.”

“You did though.”

He doesn’t have anything to say to that though, because he did. “I wasn’t flirting with Mrs. Fararrah,” he says again.

“Fine, you weren’t flirting with her. I probably overreacted.” All I know is if Father saw Dad doing that there would be blood, so yeah, it was fucking flirting to me. “But you can’t kiss people like that.”

His brow presses together and his teeth mash. “ _You_ kiss everybody.”

“Just because I do, doesn’t mean you can.” Yeah I know, that makes no sense, but I’m not sure what to say. I do kiss everyone and I don’t know why him kissing me has affronted me so. I definitely don’t want to see him kissing someone else.

He glares and I think I’m going to get a spiel on how I don’t tell him what to do with his love life, which I’ve never considered before (because Father’s work schedule for him didn’t seem to leave time for that) but that’s not what he does. “You’re right. I’m not supposed to kiss everybody. I have a mate out there and I’m supposed to be kissing him.”

That shuts me up. He has a mate? “If you have a mate then stop acting like a jealous boyfriend with me.”

“Me? You’re the one accusing me of flirting with Mrs. Fararrah.”

“Only because you were supposed to be working.” I’m panting hard by this point. All I can think about is that kiss.

“I was supposed to be working,” he agrees. “I shouldn’t have had coffee with Mrs. Fararrah. It won’t happen again.”

It goes back to the silence and I miss fighting with him. I also feel fucking bad because I’m the one who told him to go do something and then he did, and I flipped out. And _shit_ , I told Connie I was going to get him stuff and then I bailed. I send him a quick message with my communicator, while driving and get a disapproving look from Michael, but fuck him.

“So tell me, when you first kissed your mate or whatever, what was it like?” Because I bet it wasn’t like what just happened in the elevator.

I don’t think he’s going to answer me, but then he does. “It was the moment I fell in love with him.”

Figures Michael would be a fucking sap. “Is he handsome?” I hope he’s a troll.

“No.”

Heh, heh. Good.

“He’s the most divine being I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“Oh yeah? And how’s he going to feel when he finds out you kissed me, huh?”

He looks me up and down. “Angry.”

In any case, I don’t want to talk about that shit anymore, I have to brief him on how it’s going to go down with Rylan the weasel. I pull the aircraft over at the sleezy little joint in Little Ylati I know Ryland likes to hang out. “I have to kick the living shit out of someone and I don’t want you interfering.”

His eyes get hard. “ _No._ ” It’s the most emphatic ‘no’ I’ve ever got from Michael.

“It’s not a rule Michael. You’re only here to stop me dying and other things, like rape, abduction. What I’m about to do comes with the mobster territory.”

He knows I’m right. “Fine, but I’m coming in and I step in if it goes too far.”

“It won’t. All that’s going to happen is us retrieving a douchebag.”

We get out of the car and Michael follows me in. Rylan is predictable. I know where he likes to hang out and who he likes to hang out with. His motorbike craft is parked out front, so I know he’s here. Rylan is not good news. Leave it to Constantine to fall for the bad boys, which I am, but not like Rylan. The trouble is he’s exactly Connie’s type. Large shoulders, tall, barrel chest and long black hair for days. He’s got deep dark eyes and okay fine, he’s a good choice for having a baby genetics-wise, but he’s a fucking dick everything else-wise.

When I walk in, the energy changes. Everyone knows who I am and me showing up here isn’t always welcome news. Sometimes I come here on an errand for Father. But today, it’s just to fish Rylan out of his hole and drag him back to Mor Town where he’s going to fucking take care of Connie.

I see Rylan at a table and when he turns to see what all the commotion is, I’m already there connecting my fist to his face. _Wham!_ into his jaw, _crack!_ against his cheekbone, _thuck!_ into his gut. The large man doesn’t even try to fight back, which is smart. Michael will probably kill him. He’s got fear in his eyes and he keeps trying to say shit, but I don’t let him until he’s beat to a bloody pulp. No one moves to help him – no one wants on my bad side – but they’re all watching to see what’s going to happen.

When I think I’ve done enough, I drag him with me. “Sorry folks. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

When we’re outside, I get one more good shot in on him. “What the fuck are you doing? Connie’s half dead, going through what he’s going through and you’re here, drinking your face off?”

He puts his hands in front of his face. “I’m sorry. I’m _sorry!_ Look I panicked, okay?”

He’s bleeding all over the place, but he’s still got all his pretty teeth. Connie would kill me if I knocked out his teeth. “Yeah, well while you’re here panicking into some beer, Connie’s been puking his guts out. He was half-dead when I saw him and last I checked, you’re the one got him that way.” Michael’s not stupid, he’s probably putting two and two together, but I don’t flat out talk baby, hoping maybe it’s too convoluted to say for sure.

“You’re right. You’re _right_ and I wanna do right by him. I’m just… _Dean_. I can’t fucking watch. That thing’s sucking the life out of him. I want him to get rid of it, but he won’t listen to me. Please get him to listen.”

I’ve even said it myself, I’ll probably say it to Connie again when I’m scared of him dying, but his eyes. That _look_. He wants that baby. I can only imagine how many times Dad had to fight to keep me with how worried Father was about him. I’ve heard stories. I know he loves me now, he’s hired a crazy archangel to protect me, but he was concerned about Dad like I’m concerned about Connie.

All right, I guess I could understand why he’s here drinking, but that’s not getting him out of his responsibilities. My father was by Dad’s side. “Well you took a beating for it, so we’re square, but you’re coming with us. He needs you.”

“Yeah, I’ll come.”

I drag Rylan none too carefully and throw him in the back of my aircraft. When I get in, it reeks of that fucking scent of Michael’s that turns me on and I know that means he’s turned on too. Also, I’m using it against him. “Me being Mr. Tough Guy turns you on, eh? What would your boyfriend think of that?”

He doesn’t answer, but I’m pissing him off. Good.

“I hope I get to meet him. I’m going to tell him all about how hot you are for me.”

“Ser-Novak, that’s inappropriate.” He gestures with his eyes toward Rylan who can hear everything I’m saying. But I don’t give a fuck. My dad calls Father ‘Daddy’ frequently and in front of me. I just don’t have those kinds of boundaries.

“You wanting to bone is inappropriate. Don’t worry, I’d make it good. I bet you like to be fucked hard.”

I proceed to taunt him like this all the way back to Fararrah’s. We all get out of the aircraft, but Michael makes no move to follow us. “I know this place is secure, you don’t need me. I’ll remain here. Be back in ten minutes.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Wow, I don’t know what’s going on there Novak, but there’s a lot of sexual tension.”

“Shut the fuck up Ryland. When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”

I get us by security, and escort Ryland up to Connie’s room. When we arrive, his whole being lifts. He’s the happiest he’s been and I know Connie – it’s having both Rylan and I here together. He’s not surprised by the state of Rylan. He knew I was going to beat the living shit out of him. “Hey baby Daddy,” Connie says reaching his arms out to him.

“Daddy’s sorry baby, c’mere.” Rylan lifts Connie to him and Connie wraps his legs around him, inhaling his scent so loudly I can hear him.

Connie lifts his head. “Dean.” He hops down from Rylan.

“I have to go, but this guy better start doing right by you, and you forgive way too easy.” He did it with me too. I probably don’t deserve him.

Connie wraps his arms around me. “Nah, I’m gonna rip him a new asshole when you’re gone, but I want the passionate makeup sex to follow naturally, I’m sure you’d rather skip that part, so I’m waiting.”

“Appreciate that. Okay, just be careful, uh? _I don’t want to lose either of you,_ ” I whisper in Old Aerian. I could give a fuck about Rylan, I mean Connie and the baby.

“ _Yia_ Dean,” he says. “ _He is lucky to have you._ ” Connie’s not fluent, but he knows some.

I kiss his lips. “Get some sleep. Call me in the morning.” I look to Rylan. “I’m watching you, dickhead.”

I storm to my aircraft, still riled up from all of it. Michael’s there, his arms crossed, leaning against the passenger’s side door. I think I may have pissed him off to a breaking point. “You planning how you’ll resign again?” I taunt. “Me talking about how I’d fuck you too much for you?”

He reaches out, yanks me to the aircraft and swings me around to so I’m pressed against it, but this time he’s not kissing me. His hand is pressed to the window on the left side of my head, his eyes are half-lit with that eerie blue _grace_ crap and he’s kinda, fucking scary. My heart is racing and I’m hanging onto the large belt of his jacket for dear life.

“Do you know how angels fuck their mates for the first time? They bend them over, the heat of the bond too demanding for them to care about anything else; not the people who are around, or the furniture they’ll destroy and then they pound their cock into their mates hole not caring about whether they rip or not, since we can heal them. It hurts, but there’s also a lot of pleasure with the added pheromones to assist. You think you would fuck me, _no_ , I’d be fucking you and you’d beg me to come, because guess what?”

“What?” I’m breathless.

“The angel is _always_ the dominant partner. The bond won’t allow you come without my permission.”

Holy fuck. That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard and also the most torturous. I’m leaking from everywhere – my cock, my ass, I might even be drooling a bit – I’m going to have to change my pants when we’re home.

“You wouldn’t be able to handle it. So shut the fuck up and start behaving yourself. You’ve earned a spanking when we get back to the apartment.”

I blush head to toe, I’m turned on to the max and I want to hear more about what angels do to their mates.

I’m not angry anymore, but Michael’s enraged.

“Get in the aircraft,” he says, turning me to land a hefty swat to my ass.

“Ow!” but I start moving to the driver’s side and get in. “Wow, I didn’t know angels were such kinky creatures,” I say as I start the aircraft with my handprint. I miss turning Baby’s key. “What else do they do.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Oh c’mon. You’ve way broke the rules anyway. You might as well just keep going. Are you guys into bondage? I bet you can do all sorts of stuff with that grace shit.”

“Dean, that’s enough.”

Wait. That’s not the first time he’s called me Dean. That means something and, I have put him through a lot over the past several hours. He’s earned a break from me. It’s a quiet drive back to the apartment, but while his wings may be tucked away wherever they go when they’re not out, it feels like they’re here, surrounding me and keeping me warm.


	7. Hits Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> February 6, 2021  
> __________________
> 
> Hey all, what's up? I finally have this chapter where I want it after working on it forever. Still loving working on these guys.
> 
> I hope everyone is well and I'm sending my love to you all. 
> 
> xoxo

“Michael, a word please,” Cas says.

Dean looks up from his breakfast, his brow pressed together. Michael looks Dean over, making sure he’s okay even though it’s unnecessary at the moment and heads off with Cas. “What’s he going to do with him?” Dean says.

Huh. He’s genuinely worried about Michael. “I can’t tell you.”

“Fucking hell, Dad. You never fucking tell me shit.” He swipes at his plate and sends it flying across the kitchen.

I glare at him. “ _Dean._ ”

Mimi races in. “Skyr-Novak. Not to worry, I got it. I got it.”

I should make Dean clean that up. My dad never would have tolerated shit like that from me—I wouldn’t have dared. Dean has it rough in some ways, easier in others. “ _Baba_ isn’t getting rid of him, Dean.”

“Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

Mimi brings us more coffee and Dean more food, but this time, he stares at it, tapping his fingers on the table. He does this for a solid thirty seconds. “Does this have to do with Michael kissing me? Because it was my fault, I started it. He shouldn’t pay for that.”

Michael was a wreck. He ran to Cas and confessed everything about kissing Dean. Once again he thought he should leave. “The bond is progressing rapidly. I did not expect this, Si-Novak. It’s not something I can control.”

But Cas was not ready to give the angel up. “Is there a way to slow it down?”

“No. But it can be soothed by… stuff.”

By stuff, he meant sex stuff.

“Can you do _stuff_ with him, without going all the way and sealing the bond?”

“I can manage that, yes. But I thought that wasn’t allowed?”

“The reason for that rule is because, as soon as Dean got to know his security detail, they’d fuck him. Once that was established, it was easy for Dean to manipulate them out of doing their job. While Dean can manipulate you into some things, he cannot manipulate you out of protecting him, which is the only thing I care about; I think it’s safe to say I can make different rules for this situation. My son is an adult, I don’t care about who he wants to fuck.”

“He cannot manipulate me out of doing what’s safe for him, sir.” Michael was proud over that fact.

Cas nodded. “Very well. I need to consult with John Winchester. I will outline the parameters for you as soon as I can.”

Cas is still hell bent on having control over something that is quickly growing beyond his control.

“It’s to do with Michael kissing you,” I tell Dean, hoping it will calm him down.

It doesn’t. He twists his napkin, periodically looking up to the doorway, his food getting cold. “Eat Dean. Michael will want to see you’ve eaten.”

His eyes get big, he huffs, but then he does try to eat. “Mimi, could you bring me the scotch please?” She runs it over and he pours it into his coffee.

Gods. Between him and Cas with their scotch habit.

Dean manages to choke down half his breakfast, by the time Cas returns with Michael. They’ve clearly had some kind of birds and bees talk if the look on the angel’s face is anything to go by. I’m starting to recognize it. Michael is looking anywhere but Dean, when usually, he’s looking only at Dean. “Sit there, Michael,” Cas says pointing to the place beside Dean and then carries onto pour himself a scotch without explaining his actions.

Michael does as told, but he’s uncomfortable. Dean’s trying to figure out what the fuck’s going on. “ _Baba?_ Are we in trouble for something?”

“No,” Cas says. He doesn’t give anymore than that.

Dean can see nothing’s outwardly wrong with Michael, but he knows something happened. “Why did you tell him to sit beside me?”

“Because.” Cas regards him coolly, sipping his scotch.

The whole room is tense and only I know why. Cas has just had to do something he didn’t want to do. As much as he doesn’t care about Dean’s sex life, sex with this one leads to him having to share his little (adult) boy with someone in a way he has little control over, at least that’s how he sees it.

Dean is in conflict because he kinda wants to punch his father in the face, the same Father he idolizes.

Michael’s just been told he can do more stuff with Dean and then Cas made him sit right beside him. As much as I’m sure Michael wants to do ‘things’ with Dean, he’s a wreck about it. Mostly because he’s built this whole profound bond thing up for himself; it’s become so sacred it’s making him nervous.

Plus, finding out your profound bond is Dean, has to be a shock to any system, even an angel one.

Michael isn’t going to do something without Cas’s say so _if_ he can help it and he’s been honest with what he can and can’t help. Yeah, he kissed Dean, but even Cas believes that was instinct. Michael was beside himself over it, mostly because he did not want to dishonor, ‘Dean’s Father’.

“May I be excused?” Dean asks. He’s the only one left eating anyway, since he came to breakfast late.

“No,” Cas says. “Finish your plate and then you may go.”

“I’m not four fucking years old,” Dean mutters.

“ _Excuse_ me?” Cas says and he’s dangerous. Pissing Cas off is sometimes about timing. Even a small act of disobedience like that can set him off when riled as he is.

“Nothing, sir.” Dean eats, but he looks like he wants to set the whole place on fire. He still might.

When Cas is satisfied, Dean leaves with Michael and it’s just Cas and I in the kitchen. “You gonna be okay, Cas?”

“I don’t want to marry him off,” Cas says. “But I can’t seem to find another way to get the angel to stay. I’ve given him permission to do more with Dean, hoping it will be like John’s said in that it will lengthen the bonding period.”

It’s more theory than fact, but apparently, without some kind of release, the bond energy builds too high and _needs_ an outlet. Full on intercourse is less likely if the energy’s run off frequently. It’s not just sex stuffs though, it’s the whole package with the discipline he gives Dean and obedience. I got the sense from Dad that the bond is intelligent, which means it decides things consciously based on context and subconsciously based on patterns of the pair.

Cas downs his scotch quickly and pours another. This is hard for him. I keep quiet, knowing anything I say will anger him. Instead, I slink down to my knees—Mimi’s still doing up the dishes, but she’s used to us—and undo his belt. There’s a rough hand in my hair, yanking my head by the roots until I’m looking up at him. “May I, sir?”

He downs his second scotch. My scalp aches. “Do a good job, or I’m taking it out of your hide.”

He feeds his cock into my mouth. When have I ever _not_ succeeded in sucking his cock how he likes?

“Put your hands behind your back. Mmmm, yeah, fuck.” He pours more scotch, setting it down on the cart, to have hands free for loosening his tie as he fucks a slow pace into my mouth. I’m careful to keep up, my mouth open enough his dick can slide past my lips with ease.

As he picks up the pace, he drinks more scotch. He’s downing it faster than usual. “Mmmmm, aaaahhhhh, Gods your mouth Svenska.”

Svenska. Svenska’s good.

Now that he’s into it, I suck. He tosses his head back then his hand is firm in my hair again, tugging at my scalp. He groans as he comes in my mouth. I sit back and look up at him, wiping my bottom lip with the back of my hand. “Was that acceptable, Brava?”

He grips my chin. “It was. But I need your screams, Sam. Go.”

Cas wants me to head to our room, he pours _another_ scotch, my heart pounds. “Yes, Daddy.”

~**~

“What did he do to you?” I ask. Of course I don’t get a fucking answer. “Michael, c’mon. Cut the usual bullshit. I’m losing my mind over here. Did he hurt you?” I love my father, but I know how much of a fucking dick he is.

First, after we got back to the apartment, after Connie’s, Michael was pissed at me; he spanked the living daylights out of me. “I saw a hairbrush in your ensuite bath. Go get it.”

“What? _C’mon!_ I’m sorry, okay? Can’t we kiss and make up?”

For reasons unknown to me, that did not calm him down. He remained cool. “Go get the brush. If I have to get it, you won’t like the consequences.”

His eyes glowed with that blue glow-y shit, I’d pushed him as far as he could go, I went to get the brush. Being sent off to get your own implement of doom is fucking humiliating, but let me tell you, effective. I’ll think twice next time.

Probably.

I glowered handing it to him. “Where do you want me?” Yeah, I thought about running, but he’d only toss me over his shoulder and bring me back, which would have been all the more humiliating. It stirred something in me too, something that had me biting my lip, looking up at him under hooded eyes.

_Shy._

And… oh Gods, put in my place.

I didn’t even fight him after that mild bit of protest. Well, not for me, okay? “Over my lap.”

As he removed his jacket, I watched him. “There some kinda reason you keep spanking me like I’m a little kid?”

My breathing slowed in a heavy way when his jacket was off and I could see how his muscles flexed and contracted in a long-sleeved, black shirt, which he began rolling up the sleeves of. “Because that’s what you need.”

Gotta admit. I expected some kinda line about, _act like a child, I’ll spank you like one._ I didn’t know what to do with his line—what the fuck’s that even mean? Didn’t have time to think on it long, he sat on the bed and called me over.

My heart beat so damn fast as I approached. The whole thing was kinda mesmerizing, especially throwing that kiss into the mix, the energy of it still all over us and I stared at his lips the whole time he undid my leather pants. “Remove your jacket.”

I slid out, one arm at a time, _wasting_ time, eyeing the brush. He took the jacket, laying it on my bed away from us. I looked to the brush again and it was too fucking thick, made with too much fucking wood. Wood is a bitch. It was time to be cute. I leered, turning on the Dean charm, softening my body to advertise how pliant I could be. “I’m sorry, Michael. I was a fucking dick, _again._ A lippy fucking dick.”

My cute act was lost upon him. He yanked my pants down, didn’t even glance at my beautiful cock. I mean, guess it was just as well, it wasn’t hard, even it knew we weren’t there for fun times. “I appreciate your apology,” he said as he guided me over his lap, oddly gentle. My bare thighs hit the soft material of his pants and he tilted me so I was off balance, looking at the floor, unable to hold onto anything in a real way. He hadn’t touched me yet and I was uncomfortable.

“That’s it, you appreciate it? Don’t I get any clemency?”

He set the brush on the bed where I could see it, gripping me around the waist, pulling me snugly to him. “What did I tell you? You’re going obey me one way or the other. If I have to spank you a few times to drive that home, I will.”

Someone needs to tell him it’s gonna be more than a few times, even I can admit that. “You can teach me plenty of lessons with your hand, you don’t need that.” The spanking was going to happen, but maybe I could talk him out of smacking my bare ass with a square of black wood. That was my thinking.

“You will obey the rules strictly, or pay the consequence. That’s the only option you have. You already know this, yet you chose to be disrespectful to me, to Rylan and to yourself.”

“Rylan? C’mon. The other two, fine, but I’m not making changes to myself for that son of a bitch.”

“You’ll do as you’re told.”

On that note, he started in with his hand to my bare ass and it wasn’t pleasant. “Okay, got it. Got the message. I’ll… I’ll do as I’m told. Can I be done now?”

“Glad to hear it, we’re nowhere near done. You’re getting this spanking, all of it and when we’re done, you can stare at a wall and think about how to behave.”

“A wall? What? No _fucking_ way, Michael. You can forget it!” I fought, struggling to get up as he spanked away. Some of my kicking was an attempt to break free, but some of it was to relieve the growing fire in my ass cheeks. The skin jiggled, and prickly gooseflesh waved over my ass, as his hand came down hard, over and over, smack after smack. “Ow. OoooOwwww! Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll…I’ll sto-op!”

It wasn’t as physically brutal as the kinds of reprimands I get from Father, not by far, but it got into me, right to the core of me. I _did_ think about what I’d done, my gut twisted with remorse—how the fuck does he do all that with a little spanking?—I regretted and not just because my ass was on fire. I wiped at the wetness at the corners of my eyes, surprised it was fucking there and a different sort of apology came from me, one I had to get out between pants and groans and _oh, ow, holy fucks_.

“I went too far. _Fucker._ No not you, that hurt. All of that stuff means—aaaahh! _more_ to you, _Ow!_ than it,” I had to take a breath, “d-does to me. I knew it and was fucking ru-uude! about it just to piss you off.”

He gave me a break, rubbing my ass, his fingers smoothening over the raised flesh. “I have noticed you like to make jokes. I am okay with some joking.”

I gulped in breaths, limp over top of him. “Yes, but what I did earlier was mean-spirted, that’s the real reason you didn’t like it and it was disrespectful. I was being an ass and I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology. I expect better behavior in future, or you can go straight over my knee. I won’t wait till we’re in private next time.”

That… that, wow. I shivered and preened at the same time. Don’t ask me why, can’t fucking explain it for the life of me.

He picked up the brush. “Nooooo! Michael, please.”

“Shhhh.” He rubbed my back. “You’re getting a taste of this and then you’re going to stand in at the wall, like a good boy for me.”

“I ca-caan’t. I _can’t_.” That’s what came out of me, which is a fucking bizarre thing to come out of me. At that point what Michael’d given me was peanuts compared to Father’s strappings, even with the brush, I knew it wouldn’t hit the same neighborhood, but from Michael, the spanking hit different. 

Everything’s hitting different with Michael.

“You can do this. Ten. I’m going to help you. They’re going to remind you to behave. Now what do you say?”

Say? A hot cord of rebellion ran through me—wouldn’t be me if it didn’t—and I wanted to tell him what he could stuff his mouth with, but I also knew, ten could quickly become twenty; even before he landed one, I knew I wasn’t going to like him giving me the hairbrush. I huffed. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.”

The brush circled my ass, lighting up the work he did with his hand anew. Without any warning, he pulled back and _whacked_ making firm contact. I whimpered, scrabbling my hands, blindly looking for something to hang onto. “Mi-Michael, please.”

“C’mon. You can do this.” He wound back for number two, another solid whack making contact, the sting, the kicking, flailing legs, the sniffle and me wiping more tears.

After two more, I’m grabbing at bedsheets, unable to figure out why this feels so much _more_ when it isn’t half as much. “St-stop, Michael. It hurts.”

“Give me your hand.”

I reached my right hand back and he gripped the wrist firmly, pinning it there, but then threaded his fingers through mine, and squeezed.

It makes the all the difference.

The final six had me gasping, hissing and even stomping my feet, but I got through each swat and let me tell you, I wanted to throw that—can it even be called a hairbrush at this point?—thing, out of a moving aircraft. He stood me up, my eyes wet and sent me to the wall with a pat to my bare bottom. “On display, fifteen minutes.”

Still kinda wanted to punch him in the face, not brazen enough at that moment. I walked over to the wall, having lost my pants some time ago with all the damn kicking—there was a lot of kicking. Now, it was my face’s turn to be red, or maybe it was giving my ass good company, I don’t know. In any case, there was a lot of red. “Hands on your head.”

“ _Michael._ ”

“You can go back over my knee.”

I put my hands on my head wanting to commit arsenal to the wall in front of me. But there I stood for fifteen minutes, further embarrassed that I couldn’t actually stay still. My ass _stung_. I had to move foot to foot a few times, trying to relieve the sting. If it annoyed Michael, he didn’t say.

“All right, you can come out now.”

I turned around and saw his face and broke down like a little fucking kid. Yeah, _after_ the spanking. Shouldn’t you cry during? Not me. I cry after. I really am _ibishna._

He pulled me into his arms at the same time I fell into them like you fall into bed after a long, hard day. He felt solid, but there was give to him, letting me sink just enough but maintain a firm hold. “Shhhh. Come now. It’s over. You’re going to behave yourself, from now on.”

Okay that was funny. I pulled back smiling a watery smile, raising one brow. “From now on? Have you met me?”

His lip curled into a half smile. “Well then, at least until the next time.”

“So long as you know.” I went back to hanging onto him for dear life.

When I was back to full Dean, he excused himself and while I didn’t like it—he’s supposed to be with me, looking after me—I didn’t chase after him feeling too fucking content. Something about that whole song and dance was fucking soothing, I felt like a million gold coins.

Later I learned he went to my father which pissed me off and now we’re in this fucking mess.

His nostrils flare at me though and something else. I check for a scent of any kind, there isn’t one, it’s just him and his stupid non-talking self, which makes the something else I know is there all the more frustrating.

Finally, he speaks. “Would it be all right with you Ser-Novak if I took some personal time? Maybe an hour?”

“Take two, or ten. See if I fucking care.”

“I will return in an hour.”

I proceed to smash the fucking shit out of my room.

~**~

When I get downstairs, I look for food, but I don’t intend on staying. I’m going out and if Michael has something to say about it, he can try not leaving next time. Dad’s there making coffee. He’s moving stiffly, his brow’s sweaty. “You look like shit.”

He shrugs. “You want coffee?”

I cross my arms and study. “Yeah, I’ll have some fucking coffee.” I find a bag of cookies and bring them to the table. Guess I’m staying now. Maybe Dad can help me feel better than he looks.

“What’s wrong with you?” he says placing a cup of piping hot coffee before me when it’s ready.

I’m on my third cookie. “Michael needed personal time after Father’s little chat with him.”

“Michael’s not leaving, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Everyone else leaves and then it’s just me and my fucking parents.” I drink the coffee.

Dad sighs. “I know we’re not perfect, but you could do a lot worse. Look, lay low Dean. Baba has good reason to worry. Michael isn’t leaving you.”

For some reason, hearing it a second time does it for me. My heart rate slows, my temperature cools. “I guess it’s okay for him to have a break from me. I am a lot to handle.”

Dad leans in. “What do you think I’m doing right now?”

I laugh. “Yeah okay. Novak men are the kind people need breaks from.” I pause, do I wanna go to this place with Dad? Not really, because he’ll probably end up telling my father, but I need to say something to someone. I look at my cookie. “It was a good kiss.”

“One that just kinda hit different?”

“Yeah. Hit different.” I down the cookie in one go.

“It was like that for me with Baba.” The lines of Dad’s face frame his eyes when he smiles.

“Whoa, not saying I like him like that. Can you imagine the conniption Baba would have?” I grab another cookie and dip it in my coffee.

“I have some idea, yeah.”

Dad knows better than anyone how crazy he gets. Probably why he’s moving like he is. I pick at my thumb. “Was it my fault?”

“Not this time. Don’t worry about it. I can handle your father.” Then he gives that look, the Winchester one, that worry-more-about-what-crosses-my-path kinda look like Grampa has. He sips his coffee, no cares or fucks in the world, except for maybe me.

I forget. Because Dad’s the softer one of my parents. Not much disturbs the guy. Grampa raised him. “Any chance you’ll tell me what Baba said?”

He’s stone cold, but his chest heaves a forgiving breath. “It’s Chetniks.”

My blood stills. Father’s drilled story after story into my head about the Chetniks. “They want me?”

“Your father, but they’ll go through you or me to get to him. He’ll keep Michael at any cost to protect you.”

I can’t help it. The little boy in me preens. I rub the back of my neck. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Would it have made a difference? You gonna stay in the apartment for your life?”

“It would have made some difference, but no, not for my life.” I check the time. It’s been an hour. Where the fuck did he go?

“Then it’s just as well you didn’t know. Less for you to worry about.”

“And Michael. What did he say about Michael?”

His eyes flicker to the stairs, he’s frowning. He knows he shouldn’t tell me, fuck, I should backpedal, say don’t worry about it, but I have to know too damn badly. “I didn’t ask the parameters. Don’t care to know, but Baba’s given his permission for Michael to get to know you.”

I don’t mean to smile as big as I do. “Really? Y’know, a whole room could have been, uh, not destroyed if people would just tell me shit around here.”

“You’re gonna have to live with that much. Don’t ask any more questions.”

But I have so many more questions. I leave Dad alone. He puts up with enough shit because of me. I’m smiling into my cup though. This whole fucking day just got better. I cancel my plans to leave the apartment and head back to my room to clean up what I can, throw away what’s destroyed forever before Michael gets back and kick’s my ass for it.

My mood turns quickly when two hours pass and still no Michael. Three, four, five.

By the time he shows his stupid face at dinner, I’ve plotted his murder seven times. “Where the fuck did you go?”

“I told you. Personal time. You said to take as much time as I liked.”

“You told me you’d be gone an hour and besides, you know I was just being an asshole. Your place is here, you got that? All I have to do is tell Father you’re not protecting me right and you’ll see why he’s next for Aryai.” I cringe at myself. I sound like such a spoiled rich kid, but I don’t know how else to make him stay. I don’t even think he really gives a shit about what Father would do to him. I flail my arms for good measure.

He tilts his head. “You’re upset.”

“Were my flailing arms not enough for you? Yeah, I’m fucking upset dude.” I flail them some more.

He’s still stunned. “I apologize. I didn’t think you’d care if I was gone. I thought you’d appreciate the break.”

We have a weird fucking standoff, where I fume at him and he pretends he’s a statue, but nothing’s said for the longest time until, “Would you like to come sit with me outside?” He nods in the direction of the window, which leads to the ledge.

I cross my arms. “Fuck you.”

His eyes narrow so fucking narrow, I’m not sure they’re still open. “You are infuriating and if you don’t start acting your age, I’m turning you over my knee.”

I heat head to toe, arms still crossed, as he pushes past me and hops out the window to the balcony in one smooth motion. “Wait.” I follow, he waits, yanking me through the window when I get there. I don’t know why, but I fucking like when he manhandles me like that. He’s the only one who can.

He hops again to crouch on the ledge, taking up his position as my own personal sentinel. I get to watch as his wings unfold, as if from nowhere, extending wide, the bones along the spine of them stretching, the feathers glittering black. I can’t help my wide-eyed stare. “Come,” he says reaching for me.

I grab his hand, hopping and pushing with my other hand to the ledge, leaning on his assistance. I take a lot of liberties, leaning against a wing, letting it wrap around me, remembering yesterday when they closed around us.

That fucking kiss.

“You don’t have to threaten me,” he says. “If you want me to stay with you, I’ll stay with you. That’s what I’m being paid for. All you have to do is say so.”

“I was being a huge, veiny dick. You need a break from me sometime. Though, but, didn’t you… well you seem so…” Fuck, I don’t want to ask, but I need to ask. “I’m surprised you could be away that long.”

It kinda strikes a chord in me as I say it. I didn’t expect me to say it. But that’s what my problem’s been. I thought… well I thought things okay? And his absence implied said mysterious things were fucking wrong.

His head snaps to mine. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’re freakishly neurotic about my well-being. Didn’t you wonder if I’d run off somewhere?” I come up with. _Yeah. Yeah that._

He lifts the wrist with the tracker on it. Right. Forgot about that. “I’d have known if you left. Plus, a bond is forming between us.”

“What?” I didn’t fucking consent to that shit, but I know who did. A lot of good complaining will do, so I don’t bother going there.

“A bond forms between all angel-Aerian pairs. It happens naturally. It helps me protect you better. I would have known if you were in dire distress. I can get to you quickly if I need to.”

I nod. “Can the bond be undone?”

“Yes, until a point. But I don’t believe your father has intentions of ending the bond.”

Good. Then he _has_ to stay with me. I settle into him, feeling more comfortable. Novaks don’t care how we keep people, just that we do. I’m never gonna get to keep someone the regular way.

I want to keep Michael.

“What about your boyfriend? Won’t he be pissed that you’re, I dunno, bonded to someone else? How does that even work?”

“There is more than one kind of bond.”

“Yeah, yeah. He gets your fucking love bond and all I get is whatever Father bought and paid for,” I mutter. “That’s fine with me.”

He squints. “It is?”

“Look I know I’m fucking kissable and you can’t keep your hands off me,” his brow frowns deeper, “but Father would go on a rampage at the thought of some kind of love bond. Whatever’s forming between us is more than I ever thought he’d allow.”

He nods. “I understand Fathers.”

We sit in silence for a while, staring out to Endelara, his wing the only thing keeping me warm because I left my jacket inside. “So is this the ‘get to know you’ stuff Father gave his permission for? Yeah, Dad told me. Not sure he was supposed to, but got it out of him.”

He is not happy about that. I think he’ll take his wing away, but he doesn’t. He also doesn’t answer, so I push. “What did he say about us kissing? Was he pissed? Did he almost take your head off?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

I smirk. “Do you want to kiss about it?”

“ _Dean._ ”

“You called me Dean.”

The look he gives me is not a good look, if he weren’t so keen on keeping me alive, he might push me off this ledge.

“Well, Dean’s pretty damn intimate. Exactly three people call me Dean on a regular basis. You’re number four.”

“My apologies, Ser-Novak.” He balls his fists.

“I’m fine with it. Shouldn’t our, uh, bond thing allow for some kinda familiarity?”

He stares to the mess of aircrafts below. “I think that would be all right.”

Gotta say, didn’t expect that. I rub against his wing, looking for more warmth, he inhales, but he doesn’t need to fucking inhale which is the first thing to tip me off, the second is how gentle the inhale is. “Holy fucking Gods, are wings erogenous?”

He’s blushing. “In some places, yes.”

I smile wide. “Which places?”

“Each angel is different.”

“Now I know as least one of yours. So like, your cock is hard right now?”

He can’t look me in the eyes when he nods. I rub into him again, he exhales slowly through teeth. “Okay, enough of that.” He uses his wing to move me off that area.

I pout. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m going to be really no fun in a minute.”

I don’t let up though, if I turn him on enough, maybe I can get him to kiss me again. Instead of another warning, there’s a quick snap of his wing as I’m being rolled into him. For exactly one heartbeat, I’m freefalling with Michael, his arms and wings around me the ground rushing toward us.

We land on my bed. I scramble away from him. “How the fuck did you do that?”

“I have wings, Dean.” Dean sounds a whole lot like Dumbass.

“Warn a guy. Fuck, dude.”

He smirks. “Obey me next time.”

But he’s really close to my cock and did I mention? Still on my bed. That scent, the one that makes me fucking horny, is making me really fucking horny. Slick leaks, my cock hardens, I breathe heavy.

The way he’s staring at me.

He crawls, up my body, a hand to either side of my shoulders now. My heart’s going to fall out of my chest, I know it. I have to reach to touch him, just to have something to grab onto.

There’s a knock on my door. We barrel off the bed and thank fuck, it’s only a member of staff. Father doesn’t knock, Dad does sometimes. Sometimes not. “Uh, come in.”

“Fresh towels for you, Ser-Novak.”

When we’re alone again, the moment’s over. “It’s time for you to eat,” Michael informs me. “Your parents will expect you.”

I run a hand through my hair and wipe my face. “Yeah.”

My parents are there, already eating—we’re late. Father’s cool gaze is on Michael, his eyes giving instruction for Michael to sit next to me on the tall cushioned bench-seat. Our table is so weird. A circular bench seat is way too cozy for a family like mine. But apparently, I was a Daddy’s boy when I was little and this set up allowed for me to sit against Dad, something Baba actually allowed until I was ten.

Thank fuck he stopped that. How embarrassing.

“There a reason Michael and I keep getting paired up, Baba?”

Father refuses to smile. He pauses cutting his steak, pointing his knife at me. “You’re late.”

It takes every ounce of my control not to roll my eyes. I do lower them and sit and shut up to avoid a lecture. I would pour a scotch but steak like this needs wine. I pour from the bottle on the table. “You want some, Michael?” My guess is angels can’t get drunk. He doesn’t answer. Guess we’re back to that. Fuck him them. I pour more for me just to piss him off.

“What have you two been up to?” Father asks. Which is weird, but I’m gonna guess it has to do with their secret conversation.

I’m about to answer—nothing, because nothing happened—but Michael beats me to the punch. “I was going to kiss him, sir, but we were interrupted.”

“ _Dude!_ ” I slam my fist on the table.

I’ve had Father walk in on me more times than I can count with my dick up someone’s ass, I think I was eighteen when I stopped scrambling for the covers. I’ve been in some pretty embarrassing positions, with my cock in my hand when Dad’s walked in, I shrug it off, answer whatever he came in for and get back to it.

But Michael saying shit like that makes me want to hide my face.

Father watches us and I eat, attempting to eat over whatever _that_ was. “And?” he says to Michael. Michael shakes his head.

“I took some personal time earlier with Dean’s permission. I thought about what you said, I am ready.”

I look to Dad, I can read him pretty well. Even he just wants them to out with it.

Father nods. “Dean, I am lifting some of the rules. Not that you were paying much attention to the ones I had anyway, but this time, your bodyguard won’t be on the hook for your poor choices.”

I glower. “Which rules, sir?”

“No sex,” he states. “But other than that, I don’t care what you do. And Dean? He’s in charge, not you. I won’t be pleased if I hear of you disobeying him.”

I set my fork and knife down. “May I be excused?”

“No. Eat.”

This is horseshit. I chug wine and eat my steak silently, until Dad asks me questions and if there’s anything you don’t do at Castiel Novak’s table, it’s ignore Dad. Not after what he went through suffering for seven months of carrying me and birthing me—which nearly killed him—as Father would say. Father gets more pissed about me disrespecting Dad than him. “When you leaving for Grampa’s?”

“Was thinking sometime tomorrow if you’re okay with that, Father?”

“That’s fine. Remember four days.”

“Yes, sir.”

The rest of the meal is blessedly absent of Michael and Dean doing stuff talk. I can tell you a lot of weird shit about my family, a lot of shocking shit—I’ve watched my father shoot men in the head at this very table, their brains spraying the kitchen cupboards—but this might be our weirdest conversation yet.

I finish what’s on my plate and chug more wine, feeling pretty good at this point, the anger leaving me. Both my parents consumed quite a bit too, as we talked and drank and ate, but Mimi still brings us a fourth bottle of wine. I have to lean against Michael for support. “Tell, tell Michael about the time Connie and I threw a huge rager here.”

Even Father’s relaxed enough to give a half smile. Dad laughs. “Cas and I came home to one hundred and seventy of their closest friends.”

“Baba almost killed me.”

“He did shoot at them, got one kid in the foot,” Dad adds.

“Wasn’t an accident,” Father says.

Michael laughs. It’s a small laugh, but it counts. “You think that’s funny?” I lean into Michael, kicking my feet up on the bench seat, they almost touch Dad’s thigh. Michael’s stiff beside me, his gaze flickering to Father.

“You remind me of my family.”

Father’s watching us. He drinks more wine. “How so?”

“Dysfunctional. Yet it works most of the time.”

Father’s eyes widen. People don’t talk to him like that. He signals to Mimi. “Pour Michael some mead,” he says.

“What the fuck?” I say.

Dad grabs my foot. “ _Dean._ ”

“I don’t drink, Si-Novak.”

“But I insist.”

“I’ll drink his.” The special Novak mead is something only Father can order poured. Don’t think Michael knows that.

“If I must, but it will affect me and I’m on the job.”

“You’re not going out the rest of the night, Dean will be fine here,” Father says.

“Hey, maybe I had big plans,” I slur, laughing. There’s more talking and more drinking. My body’s filled with the happy buzz of alcohol, I can tell Dad’s affected too. It’s harder with Baba, but him being more handsy with Dad gives him away. “Hey Michael, tell my parents about how you can fly.”

“They know,” he says.

Right. I down my eighth glass of wine, or is this my ninth glass? Could be seventeen for all I’ve paying attention. There are a few empty bottles on the table by this point, Mimi clears them away and brings us a fresh one. “How come we bother goin’ places in aircrafts then? Seems inefficient.”

Might be the alcohol, but I swear to fucking Aro, he pauses to stare down to my soul before he answers. “I will teach you about flying.”

I nod, closing my eyes, settling into Michael. My head finds its way to his lap. Talking happens around me, the lull of their voices soothing. I’m not asleep, but I’m not awake either. Someone squeezes my foot. That’s Dad, definitely Dad. But someone else’s hand falls across my cheek, idly sweeping fingers back and forth across it.

“Take him to bed.” A sharp voice. Father.

I bat the hands away when they reach for me, there’s more talking and then it’s quiet. A hand’s soft through my hair as I drift off for real.

When I wake up, the sun’s poking through the curtains to my room. My mouth is dry, tastes like something died in it, I’m pantless, got a white t-shirt and boxers on, then scramble around, cuz usually when I wake up like this, someone’s in bed with me. Bed’s empty.

My fucking head though.

I stumble, getting up, intent on something to relieve the vise someone put on my head—fucking wine—but the cool breeze catches me. I go that way instead, rub my right eye, scratch my nuts with my left hand. I see Michael, and stand at the window, admiring the way his hair falls across his furrowed brow, the way his blue eyes are bright and dark at the same time.

The way he crouches like a predator.

My foot of my hungover ass catches on the window ledge when I step up, Michael’s there, gripping me. Glaring. “Got anything in your angel mojo for hangovers?”

“No. But I can make you coffee.” He leads me inside with a smack to my ass.

Wait, did I fall asleep on his lap at the dinner table last night in a drunken stupor? No. Couldn’t have. I’d have a skewered angel.

Right? Yeah.

Yeah? No. Couldn’t have.

He ushers me toward the ensuite bath, I can’t stop looking, drawn to the power seeping off him, choked up by it. Has he always been this beautiful? _Yeah, yeah, yes._ I don’t want to see it though. He’s too much. “Michael?”

“Yes, Ser-Novak?”

I wait till I’m safely at the door. “You wanna come in here and suck my cock?”

His eyes blaze murder, but before he can hunt me down to spank me, I slam the door and lock it, pressing my back against it, closing my eyes, having to fucking breathe as my heart pounds outta my chest.

He’s too much and I’m too much and the two of us are too fucking much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My latest Blog is [HERE](https://dmockingbirds.com/2021/02/06/eyes-and-xavier/) with eye and Xavier's school updates!


	8. Grampa Winchester's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> March 3, 2021  
> __________________
> 
> Hey all! I'm sorry I have been away. I've been editing and working on all sorts of things. The update is here: 
> 
> [UPDATE](https://wordpress.com/view/dmockingbirds.com) There is also a link to my new website!
> 
> I have missed these guys and they have been on my mind. I have also been musing a Finding Sammy Sequel. I don't know why my brain wants to put me through more torture, ha! But it's there! Actually, this time, it's a lot lighter. I mean, the Sam parts will hurt (through his healing) but MUCH lighter than the first. We shall see. That will be another long one, so got to power up. 
> 
> I hope everyone's well.

Shaving is difficult. But I shave. Cas presses himself into me from behind. I hiss, but don’t let it distract me from what I’m doing. Dad always said, “Be able to shave with bombs going off around you, or you’ll never be able to shoot with precision when you’ve got monsters barreling at you from all sides.”

“You’re in a good mood.” He’s one eighty from where he was yesterday. Once Cas processes and has a plan, he settles down. He must have decided he’s solved the puzzle.

“I think it’s going to work, Sam. The angel is compliant. What kind of ceremony should we have for them? Here at the apartment? No. We’ll rent out Yaxley’s. Only the best for my boy.”

My brows go so far up my forehead, they’re nearly in my hairline. I don’t say a word though and keep shaving.

“ _Sam._ ”

Oh. He wants my opinion. “I think Michael is the right person for Dean.”

“Good, it’s settled.”

“What are you going to do about the letting go of him part?” That’s going to be a bitch. For me.

“That’s the best part. I don’t have to. The angel will live here has his bodyguard, I will dictate what they can and can’t do. And if they want to play house at some point, fine. I’ll set something up for them. Dean can move to one of the lower floors, we’ll fix it up for them to their tastes. Maybe they’ll bless us with a grandchild, which will keep Dean busy, make him grow up. I’ll make sure to find them the finest surrogate in Endelara.”

I might be messed up, but I find him adorable when he gets like this. I’m not surprised by any of it though, I knew something was up when Cas pulled out the Novak mead last night.

“Dean could still present.” I set my razor down, toweling off.

“If Dean presents, he’s having surgery. You know what I was like with you. Then I might kill the angel and that would be counterproductive.” His fingers extend and flex into balls, like he’s winding up to sock the angel now.

Cas was fine with me taking birth control, a shot I get once a month, because he knows I’ll follow through. Dean’s too irresponsible. I turn to face him, his fingers trace down the welts on my back. “I’m glad you have chosen Michael. Clearly Dean’s taken with him too.”

Cas does his thing he does, where one eye near closes and his lips twist to that same side. “At least that will make things easier.” He kisses up my neck to my lips.

“What changed for you, Brava?”

“I know you think me a hard Father, I am, but I know after last night, Michael will put him first.”

Cas doesn’t mean that, how other people might mean that. But I understand him. “Dean might not like that.”

He laughs. “Dean will do what he’s told. Now come. Let’s celebrate. We’ll tell them the news when they return from John’s. Until then, I’m gonna make you feel good, Baby.”

~**~

I dress casual; travel pants, a white shirt, pocketed vest overtop, boots. I pack light; I’ve got stuff at Grampa’s. Anything else I need, I can buy. Father’s cooled off and having Michael around has relaxed him; he topped up my account generously. I haven’t earned Baby back, but he’s still letting us use an aircraft, rather than have a driver take us. I make sure Michael knows in no uncertain terms I’m driving, since he refuses to use his wings to fly us. No he won’t tell me why.

“You know Michael, these are like, days off for you. Why don’t you forgo the whole no talking thing, just while we’re at Grampa’s?” I’m pretty sure that’s not even a rule anymore, but Michael goes all quiet at times, fucking pissing me off in the process.

Maybe he does it just to piss me off.

I’m lucky I get any acknowledgement for that one and naturally, it’s disdain. I have a personal goal over these next four days though and that’s to get Michael to talk to me like a normal person. I figure I can make it happen while we’re away from Novak Apartments.

It’s an easy drive to Grampa’s. He lives on a planet called Odarath, past the thirty-fourth star cluster.

As I drive, I crack open a beer. Michael snatches it away. “You cannot drink and drive.”

“Why not? Not like there’s a law against it.”

“There should be.”

He doesn’t give it back to me and I have to live with whatever non-alcoholic beverages this thing’s packed with. “Wait till you see the Impala. She’s stocked with everything. Way better than this hunk ‘a crap. What are these? Vegetable flavored chips? Gross.”

Having had enough of me not watching where I’m going so I can find food, he starts digging into the compartment himself and pulls out a bag of chips he opens, before handing them to me. I look at them and deem them acceptable. “Okay fine. But the Impala still has way better stuff.”

He smirks, satisfied he’s once again stopped me from being a danger to myself and others. Grampa’s not there when we arrive, but I’m keyed into his wards, I just need some of my blood. Michael flips out when I put my knife to my hand, about to slice it open. “What are you doing?”

“I need blood,” I say continuing on my merry way, slapping my hand against the place on the door that will let me in without searing my head off. “Unless you want to be Angel pâté.”

When the door opens, I step inside, Michael still fuming behind me. “Next time, a warning would be helpful.”

“But then I won’t get to see that look on your face.”

I get a smack to my ass for that one. “Ow!” I say rubbing, which yeah, I deserved, but no I don’t regret. He yanks my bleeding hand toward him using his blue stuff, which I found out is called _grace_ to heal the cut.

“Behave yourself, and then I won’t have to spank you.” Apparently, he’s allowed to say stuff like that, of course he is. Besides, I’m beginning to think he _likes_ spanking me.

Grampa’s place is dark and gloomy, he really needs a companion the total opposite of him to add a soft touch around the place. I’m going to tell Dad he should talk him into it. I check the fridge, it’s full of beer but no food. Figures, but I’m down. I grab a six-pack.

“I guess you’ve been here before?” I ask. He doesn’t answer, doing his thing, checking everywhere. Like anything could get in here. Grampa’s got this place airtight. I realize we’re alone. Yeah, we’ve been alone in my room – not having sex, which just isn’t right – but there are always other members of staff around and the general security detail. Plus, my parents who will walk in anytime unannounced. They have no fucking idea what privacy means. But here there is no one else. “You know, I have a room here. I think I’m gonna go relax, with the window wide open.”

 _Relax,_ means masturbate. Michael already knows.

“Not until I check the room you’re not.”

“Good idea. Let’s go do it together.”

He rolls his eyes but lets me follow. When we get up there, I set the six-pack on the bedside table, throw myself on the bed and stick my hand down my pants. He pretends not to notice, but I know he does. I can _smell_ that he does. “You know, if you don’t want to have sex with me, I’m fine for you just to watch again, not something you haven’t done before.”

He opens the window for me. “The area is secured, Ser-Novak.”

Gods. He won’t budge at all and it’s fucking frustrating. I take my hand off my dick. I can’t believe it, I’ve lost my erection. I pout like a child staring at the ceiling. I know he’s still there though. “You can go chill if you want, I think I’m just gonna sleep.” I should also check on Connie. He didn’t end up telling his parents about the baby and he will soon. This trip may get cut short.

“Weren’t you going to _relax_?” he says.

I peer at him. I explained all about what ‘relax’ means, since the guy’s totally clueless about innuendos. He means it how I mean it.

“If you want the window open like that, under such vulnerable circumstances, I have no choice, but to stay and protect you, Ser-Novak.”

I look him over, for any possible sign he’s joking, only the archangel? Not so good at joking. “But you’ll see me and you said, _don’t ever do that again!_ before you dramatically stormed out.”

“I’ve decided, I can handle it. Do what you need to do, Ser-Novak.”

Well now I just feel like he’s tricking me in some way, but that’s fine. I’m not worried about being tricked, especially if he thinks he’s going to trick me at something like making me masturbate. I pull out my wang, so it’s in his full view and start stroking. As I stroke, I start leaking slick which I use to coat my dick; I pant. That scent from Michael’s already pouring off him, the one I’ve started calling the ‘sex’ one because it makes me hornier and I know it makes him horny too.

Because I can’t stop staring at Michael, I quickly realize he’s not as fine as he might like to be. “Dude, you can pull out your dick too. I’ll suck it for you.”

“ _Oh fuck_ ,” he breathes then he tenses.

“I turn you on,” I say as I continue to stroke my cock. I’ve known this, I don’t need his confirmation, but I want him to say it.

He nods, which is progress.

“I don’t know what sort of rules Father lifted and I know you were probably told not to fornicate with me under any circumstances, but I bet casually stroking yourself to an orgasm right next to me is okay.”

“It would be, but it still _feels_ inappropriate,” he says and it’s talking. He could have just ignored me.

“That’s supposed to be a reason to a guy like me? My whole life is spent doing things that are inappropriate.”

He smiles and it’s magnificent. Slowly, he moves so that he’s sitting on the other side of me. It’s not as sexy as I imagined, now it feels like a science experiment—get the angel to come, analyze specimen’s come.

But now that it looks like this might happen, my wang is forgotten, bobbing hard and heavy; I want to see his. I lick my lips as he undoes his pants, but then he stops. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never… this is new.”

Whoa, what? Suddenly the big, scary archangel has turned innocent teenaged boy. “You’ve never masturbated in front of someone?”

“I have not.”

Something about the way he says that tips me off. “Please tell me you’ve masturbated before?”

He blushes and looks down. “No.”

“What?! How does that even work? Doesn’t that affect your junk badly, or somethin’?” I’m no healer, but I’m pretty sure you need to empty the pipes once in a while for health reasons.

“Not for angels until, well until we do.”

“So you mean to tell me you’ve _never_ masturbated before…” I trail off, my sex-addled brain doing some math. “Michael, have you had sex before?”

He gets angry and starts to do up his pants. “This was a mistake.”

I reach out and grab his wrist to stop him. “No, please. I wasn’t going to make fun, but Michael, to someone like me it’s hard to believe anyone can go a week without sex, let alone… however the fuck long it’s been for you.”

He’s quiet, staring down at his opened pants, having some sort of internal crisis.

“Can I see it?” I ask. He squints. “Your dick.”

He nods, but he doesn’t move to remove his pants. I help reaching toward his pant leg and tug at the hem. I’m tentative at first, but then I get more aggressive, pulling one whole leg out. I kneel up and remove the other tossing his pants aside. I stare down at him, mesmerized. Gods is he beautiful. “Okay, okay, get back to your side,” he says.

I smirk and climb off, but instead of just going ‘back to my side’, I sit too close to him, so that I’m practically attached to the left side of him. This is a bit like how Constantine and I did it for the first time. We were far less shy with the other, but we were slow to pull out our dicks too, wanting the other to go first. My dick’s already hanging out, so I take initiative and stroke some more. Michael stares.

“So that mean you’ve never fucked your boyfriend either?” I ask.

“Never.”

“Why?”

“It’s not the right time.”

“So your father makes you take a vow of celibacy until you meet the right one?” I ask, still stroking. For whatever reason, he’s talking today, and I want to keep the words coming.

“Yes. We are here to do work.”

“Doesn’t this break your vow?”

“No.”

“Then why have you never masturbated before, man?”

He doesn’t answer that, and I note he’s still not doing it. I reach over and shove my hand down his pants, which I one hundred percent expect repercussions for, but instead of taking my hand away, he lets it happen, hissing and taking a breath he probably doesn’t need. I can’t see his cock yet, but I can feel how massive it is, the skin _silky_ and I remember it’s never been touched before like this.

_I got to touch Michael’s dick sexually before he did._

Which means I also got to touch it before his stupid boyfriend did. Fuck that guy whoever he is. “Can you ask your father to change your mate? I’m way better than that guy.”

He smiles as his eyes flutter, enjoying my ministrations. “Could you simply ask your father to change your mate, once he’s picked for you?”

Yeah, okay fine. Point him. I don’t really like thinking about it and since I’m almost at my thirtieth birthday with no mate, I’m sorta hoping Father will _not_ pick one for me. Just forego the whole thing altogether. I’d rather have things as they are, choosing people I fancy, rather than entering a marriage bond with someone I don’t care or have lukewarm affections for. I push the thoughts away. “That feel good, baby?”

For some reason, _that’s_ the thing that pisses him off. He snatches my hand away, which must be a feat. If I’d never had anyone touch my dick, and then some extremely hot man came along to do it for me, I couldn’t turn them away for nothing. “What did I do?”

“You call everyone that.”

“So?” I analyze him. “Do you want your own name, Michael?”

“I don’t want the first time I do something sacred to be mediocre.”

He probably should do this with his real boyfriend, but fuck that, I want him to do it with me. I don’t bring that clown up nor do I care about him. If he’s not concerned over thinking about him, why should I be? Besides, it’s hard to resist me. His boyfriend should let it go on that fact alone. “I don’t call anyone else, Feathers?”

He softens, but he’s not satisfied.

“Yeah, okay. Feathers isn’t _sexy_. But what if I said, _Per’ya_?” I even fucking purr it, rolling the ‘r’s’ off my tongue. It’s still Feathers, but in Old Aerian, which is a passionate language.

Michael gets shy and can’t fight the smile away. We have a winner folks.

“I want to make you feel good, _Per’ya_.” This time when I reach for his cock, I pull it out past the waistband of his briefs. Holy shit, it’s as gorgeous as he is. I take my hand off it to admire. It’s thick and long, with a really hefty vein running through it, the mushroom cap of the head perfectly shaped.

Yeah, he can pound into me with that.

So, I’ve got my cock hanging out of my pants and now he’s got his cock hanging out of his and we’re having some sort of stare off. It doesn’t last long, next I know, he’s over top of me, our lips locked in another one of those searing kisses, like we had in the elevator, only this time, our dicks are sliding together, mine already wet with pre-come dribbling between us. “Fuck, Michael, _please,_ ” I get out between kisses. His dick is so close to my ass. It would be so easy to slide it in.

As if he can read my mind, he takes my hands and pins them to the bed, so there’s no way I can help make that happen. I’m powerless against him and fuck, does that turn me on several hundred notches.

Father often thinks I’m nothing but, _ibishna_ , because yeah, I do some pretty idiotic things, but I’m not a total idiot. Most of the time I choose partners I can dominate, like Yuanda, because I know there’s always a price on my head from someone, somewhere. Father’s lectures and lessons have sunk into some degree.

And well, I’ve had some serious scares. Yeah. That’s what we’ll call them. ‘Scares’.

But I prefer this, I crave being taken, I want to surrender with someone I can trust not to hand me over to their superior.

Michael pisses me off most of the time, but I _know_ I can trust him. I go pliant under him, letting him do what he wants with me. By this point, the room has filled with his scent, the one that tells me how aroused he is and fuck, it’s making me even more aroused. “ _Moya_ ,” he growls in a language I’ve never heard before. “Suck my cock. _Now._ ”

Wow. For someone who’s never even touched his cock, he sure knows what to do and he’s not shy about telling me to do it. I’m one hundred percent game. He flips us over, so he can lay on his back and I can inch down to his pelvis. I waggle my brows. “Remember, you demanded this and I’m really fucking good at it.” In other words, I’m about to bury his mate, because I know he’ll pale in comparison to me.

I look up at him one last time, bat my pretty lashes at him, then swallow him down.

Michael can’t handle it. He moans right from the start, pushing his pelvis up into my mouth, and it would gag anyone else, but I have an amazing gag reflex and I take it, licking up the side with my tongue, sucking, keeping my teeth away, _for now_.

It doesn’t take me long, and I don’t judge him, not only am I _that_ good, but it’s been centuries of build-up to this point. He comes down my throat and I swallow like a champ. I climb him. The angel is bug-eyed, staring at the ceiling, looking like he’s been run over by an aircraft. “Dean that was… magnificent.”

He called me Dean.

“Told ya. Your mate can fucking suck it and see if he can do a better job.”

His head turns toward me in a sudden movement, his eyes glance down to my cock. He spins so he’s on top. Is he gonna…? Oh yep, he’s gonna suck my dick now. “Now Michael, I know it’s your first time. I won’t judge you, if you’re at all apprehens—” He sucks my cock down, that combined with the scent he’s giving off is driving me wild. Michael’s a fast learner, from the precise way he’s sucking me, I would never guess he’s never done this before. I remember what he said it’s like for an angel to fuck their mate—must be fucking instinct for them.

I’m defiling Michael. Because he’s totally breaking whatever vow he took, _with me_.

Good. It’s a stupid vow.

What kind of a lunatic God makes their son celibate for this long and expects him not to even get his dick sucked? Michael should get to explore a little before he shackles himself to one guy.

Even though I am experienced and well-versed in getting my cock sucked, it doesn’t take me long either, especially being consumed with all that horny-angel-pheromone-shit. I come hard, Michael swallows; I can’t move. “Dean?” he says when I haven’t moved or spoken for an entire minute.

“I’m still with the land of the living, but barely. Fuck, dude. That was epic. We are doing that again.”

I’m game to start in with more, but Grampa calls from downstairs. “Dean?” He knew I was coming, and his wards let him know who’s entered.

“Yeah, coming, Grampa!” I call down. I make myself roll off the bed and put my cock back in my pants. Michael does the same. “You’re good at that.”

He smirks. He knows it.

I run my hands through my hair in an attempt to make it look a little less like I was just fucking around with an archangel. But my lips feel bruised and it’s hard to shake the I-just-had-my-cock-sucked vibe. I don’t bother with my jacket. “C’mon.”

I almost grab his hand. Almost.

But I don’t.

~**~

Grampa carries quiet menace in his posture at all times. But it’s also a posture that’s so relaxed and loose, it’s easy to think he’s going to be slow. Anyone thinking that would be wrong. Grampa’s always several steps ahead of the regular populace; he doesn’t need to tense up.

And he’s cool. So fucking cool, with his jeans that are fitted, but loose enough they’re baggy down his legs. He’s got a thick brown belt – which he will take off and hide you with if you need it – with a wide, decorative buckle in front. Today he’s wearing dark plaid, and thick black boots. I like the bit of grey in his beard and through his hair, makes him look bad ass. I hope I’m half as cool when I’m his age.

I know the stories well. He was a tough son of a bitch to have as your dad, but he softened considerably by the time he got to me. Dad says he’s sure it happened the first time he held me. It was three days after I was born, and I was tiny. They still weren’t one hundred percent sure I’d make it to my first birthday. The healers said I was fine, but I was so weak, Dad was sure my health would plummet at any moment. Dad claims he watched something come over Grampa, looking at me. He said to Dad, “Don’t worry son. This one here’s relentless like a Novak and a fighter like a Winchester. He’ll make it, if I have anything to say about it.”

He insisted Dad get rest and he held me all through that night and for the next thirty days, so Dad could recover. Dad recounts that he’d never heard him so talkative and gentle, walking me around the apartment, telling me hunting stories. He fell in love. “I almost couldn’t believe I was watching gruff John Winchester, carry around something so tiny, so carefully,” Dad told me.

For a long time, Grampa was my only babysitter, the only one Father trusted. I spent a lot of time with Grampa growing up and Dad’s glad for it. He’s always seen the good things about Grampa, beyond his own rough upbringing.

I go in for a hug, he opens his arms wide. “Hey Grampa.”

“Dean. Hello Michael.”

“So? What kind of cool things you got to show me?”

His eyes smile. Grampa smiles a lot with his eyes, his lips barely moving. “Let’s eat first.”

I help Grampa warm up the chili he must have made in preparation for me. He knows how much I love his special Winchester chili. Dad makes it too, but it’s not quite the same as Grampa’s. Here, there’s no Mimi to make everything for us, you have to make it yourself and Grampa expects I pitch in. “What was your last hunt, sir?” I ask.

“Vampire nest off the Coast of Gaylre.” That’s on his planet. “Got paid a premium.”

All the while, Michael’s quiet, watching the pair of us. Grampa tells me about his hunt, using as few words as possible, and I get excited. When he’s done, I tell him in detail about everything I’ve been up to since I saw him last. I don’t get to talk to him about Michael though, since he’s sitting right here. I’ll have to send him away to my room or something at some point, since there’s little chance he’ll leave the premises while we’re somewhere off planet.

“All right, Dean. Come with me,” he says after we’ve eaten and cleaned up the dishes.

“Is it, uh, Winchester business?” I say meaning, should I leave Michael here?

He nods.

“Sorry Feathers, you stay here.”

“No. I’m sorry Mr. Winchester,” Michael says. “I’ve been instructed to keep two eyes on Ser-Novak while I’m here.”

“And when was I supposed to get privacy?” I complain.

“Si-Novak was more concerned with your safety than your privacy.”

I’m about to throw a fit, but Grampa saves me the spanking that would have followed. “All right then. Come with us Michael.”

I know Grampa’s leading a lamb to slaughter voice when I hear it though and so I’m not surprised when Grampa’s quick, shutting the angel out of his basement lair, and initiating the warding. “Sorry Michael,” he calls. “We don’t have a lot of time before he’ll get through that.”

Fuck he’s bad ass and I’m reminded he’s a cool space pirate. Grampa leads me over to something he’s got covered by a large cloth. He takes it off and underneath is a statue, one that looks like, Michael…? “What the fuck is this?”

“Exactly what you think it is. I wanted to tell you something about him, he won’t want you knowing.”

“Is he actually a space troll?”

“They don’t make statues of space trolls, son. Michael’s royalty.”

Something stirs in my belly I don’t like. “Like a prince or something?”

“Or something. Royalty’s the best word I have, but it’s not what angels use. He was Aro’s favorite son and so was expected to do _more_.”

“Was?”

“He fell out of favor with his father, which is why he began taking jobs. He’s working his way back into his father’s good graces.”

“I don’t get it though, he’s got serious hero worship for his father. I can’t see him doing something that his father wouldn’t approve of.”

“Good catch. I don’t think he did either, I suspect he’s covering for someone. Either way, he’s currently out and he wants back in.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Michael is dangerous, but you can trust him. You can also trust he’ll stick to his father’s word.”

Grampa’s all about reading people and people (or creatures) are read by their patterns. Obeying Daddy is Michael’s pattern.

Grampa covers the statue over in time for Michael to burst through the door. He’s pissed and his eyes are alight with blue glow. “Mr. Winchester, do that again and I will be taking Dean home.”

Grampa’s unfazed by Michael. He winks at me, wanting me to get something I just don’t get.

The days spent at Grampa’s are fun. I get some outdoor target practice in, something I can’t do at home and I ask all kinds of questions about Michael, with Michael there to hear me. “Can angels have babies, Grampa?”

Michael glares at me, I smirk saying he’s welcome to leave any time with my eyes. “They can mate with any creature, but the Gods prefer for them only to mate with their profound bond.”

“Why do they open their wings to the sun?” I ask.

“Don’t know. But I have books. Your dad wanted some anyway. You can figure out how to feed and water him.”

Michael, finally having enough of us, storms off toward the porch, outside the kitchen, where he can still watch over me, but he doesn’t have to listen to us. Grampa laughs. I continue to ask him as many of the questions I can remember, while he helps me perfect my aim, timed with my breath, so I can shoot my firearm with more precision.

“All right, target practice over. Now clean that.” Grampa’s big on care of firearms.

“It won’t do for ya to have all this shooting practice, only to have your weapon fail at the time of operation because you failed to clean it,” he drilled into my head as a kid.

When I’d complain – to Dad, I’d never complain in front of Grampa – Dad would remind me how he was reminded to clean his firearms. He wasn’t. Grampa told him it was expected, and then if he didn’t, Grampa’s belt came off and privileges were severely restricted for the next little while.

With me, Grampa even pats my shoulder. “I’ll go start on dinner.”

He heads into the house and Michael returns to watch me. “I’m not gonna disappear, Michael. You must want a break from me by now.”

He appraises me coolly. “I signed on for protecting you.”

“Or maybe you just want your cock sucked again?” Why am I being such a dick? I dunno. He’s just getting on my nerves.

He flinches and now he’s hurt. Great. “I can go back on the porch if you need some space.”

I sigh. “No. Fuck. Look, do whatever you want.” I focus on cleaning my firearm _and_ doing a good job. Grampa will check. Michael glances to the porch but chooses a place under the tree instead. Isn’t he a prince or something? And he picks under the tree to sit so he can watch over me. _Ibishna._ He must really want in with his daddy.

I try not to pay him any attention, but he’s all I can focus on. I want to see what he looks like again, which is fucking dumb – I was _just_ looking at him. As I work, I catch his happy scent, what could he be happy about? I chance looking up at him. “What?”

He doesn’t answer.

“I think your no talking ship sailed when you let me go down on you.”

He still doesn’t say anything.

“Fine. You know what Michael? Go to the porch. You’re distracting me and I have to get this done.” Grampa won’t let me go without dinner, like he would have Dad, but he will delay it and I’m fucking hungry.

Michael gets up, wipes himself off and heads to the porch to set up his vigil. When I’m finally done to Grampa’s standards, I bring everything into the house, walking right by Michael. “Gramps? I’m done. You want help, or can I take a shower?”

“I’m good. You go’on to take a shower.”

Making food for me, might be the most grandfatherly thing he does. Yeah, I help, but I’m only ever a sous-chef. I head up to my room to grab some clothes to take with me into the bathroom, Michael’s followed me upstairs of course, but he doesn’t come in. I decide on some of the clothes I keep at Grampa’s, clothes Father would flip out about if he saw me in them: Jeans and flannel like Grampa.

“You coming in the shower with me, Baby?” I say, using ‘baby’ on purpose to piss him off.

He scowls. Success! “I’ll wait here for you.”

Finally. Five minutes alone. At the same time, I would have been down for him in the shower with me. Nothing’s happened between us since our weird cock-sucking session the first day we got here. As I’m waiting for the water to heat up, I message Connie to ask him if Rylan’s still holding up his end.

 _Things are fine here, Dean._ He replies. _Enjoy your time with Grampa Winchester._

He’d better not be giving me the run around. Once I’m showered and dressed, I head back to my room with my wet towel in hand, my hair still drip-drying. As soon as Michael looks at me, he can’t hide his lust. It leaks off him. He looks away. “I’ve never seen you like that,” he says.

“Oh, you’re speaking to me now?” Maybe this room has become like the ledge. “Or you just want some attention?”

“I am not opposed to your attention, Ser-Novak,” he says.

I feel better about that. He hasn’t made a single move since that day and I was starting to think he wouldn’t again. Clearly he’s attracted to me, but you can be attracted to someone and do nothing about it. “Not in the mood for you,” I say tossing my towel in the basket. Except I am and I don’t like it. I want Michael off my brain.

I eat with Grampa, we hang out and then Grampa decides to turn in. “You mind if I go out for a bit tonight, sir?”

“Fine with me. So long as you bring Michael,” he says.

Like that’s a choice.

Michael’s not so cool about the outing, but he doesn’t forbid it, and I know I’m walking a fine line, so I pick a place that’s not a total dive. “This isn’t a good idea,” Michael says.

“Why?”

He won’t say. I push past him and head inside, with him not too far in my wake. I head straight to the bar and order myself a beer. “Please. Let’s return to your grandfather’s,” he says.

That he’s even asking, is saying something, he could just carry me out of here, but he doesn’t have a legit reason yet and I’m starting to catch onto that he does _try_ not to piss me off. Fuck him though, I order another round. Eventually, someone sits down beside me. “Can I buy you a drink, cutie?” a gruff voice says.

I size the guy up. He’s harmless, but not really my type. Still, talking to anyone’s better than sitting here in silence with Michael. “I’ve got it,” I tell him ordering for both of us.

I can feel the tension coming off Michael and a new smell emerges, only this time I don’t know how to articulate it with another known aroma. Basically, imagine what danger smells like, that’s the scent I get. The tension pouring off of him winding him tight like a spring.

And then something kinda _different_ happens.

I feel a push to him, that comes from me. I want to go to him; make him feel better. Because he feels like shit right now. I don’t know how I know that, but I do and now I feel like fucking shit. _What’s happening to me?_

The drinks come, I down mine and then get up. “C’mon Michael. Come dance with me.”

“Ser-Novak, that’s inappropriate.”

Does he forget about the part where we sucked each other’s dicks? “Look, I’m either dancing with you, or him, so unless you want me to—”

He’s up and yanking me by the wrist onto the dance floor before I can finish my sentence, but when we get there, he freezes. “Have you danced before, Michael? Or do I get your dancing virginity too?” The music is loud and I probably don’t have to yell over the music for him to hear me, but I do.

His eyes pierce me. He leans into talk into my ear. “I know how to dance, but not to _this_ kind of music.”

Grampa said he was something akin to royalty, maybe he did fancy ballroom type dancing or some shit like that. I, unfortunately, know the Endelarian version of that kind of dancing too. Every Novak has to learn. We’re an old family, dating a lot of years back, so many, we’re not one hundred percent sure how old and there are particular traditions kept that are non-negotiable. Now isn’t the time for that kind of dancing though.

I start easy, swaying side-to-side in time with the music, smiling wide, my green eyes zeroing in on him. Michael can’t look me in the eyes. That’s right, the big bad archangel can’t take my smoldering at him. I keep going, smoothing my hands down my body, biting my lip and getting down with the groove of this song. Meanwhile, Michael stands staring, stone still.

It’s a crowded dance floor, men grinding and rubbing themselves on each other – yeah it’s that kind of place – bodies are slicked with sweat and it’s clear a lot of alcohol has been imbibed. I’m not nearly drunk enough to be dancing like I am, but I’m Dean Novak, so fuck it. I sway my hips and _really_ move in time with the beat now.

Since Michael still hasn’t joined in, looking like a fish out of water, I take it another level. A lot of the guys on the floor are shirtless, I remove my flannel first, and tuck a portion of it into the back of my pants letting it hang down my right ass cheek. Next goes my white t-shirt, which I toss into the crowd. I can’t hear Michael’s huff, but I see it well enough. I laugh and keep dancing.

My shirtlessness attracts others like me, two other shirtless men trap me in a dancing sandwich. If Michael’s not going to dance with me, I’m dancing with them. I let them move against me, one in front, one behind. I lose myself to the music, closing my eyes, reaching behind me, putting my arms around one of the men’s necks, the guy in front of my hangs his hands from my belt as the guy behind starts playing with my nipples as we dance.

When I open my eyes, Michael is there in front of me, I just catch the man he’s replaced tripping away. He doesn’t need to do a thing or say a word to the other guy, who drops me like a bag of hot rocks. Michael puts his arms around my neck pulling me close, the music’s still thrumming through me and I resume moving with the beat. Michael does too only he hauls me close enough to lick my skin and suck my bare chest.

His lips move to mine, pressing to them, his tongue sliding in and I swear this whole place must smell like whatever angel pheromones he’s giving off right now, they’re strong. It’s the usual floral ‘horny’ scent, but a thousand times stronger. My jeans are wet with slick, my cock throbs and I press my hips toward his, letting the kiss consume me.

His lips travel to my chin, exploring, but return to find my lips again staying there for some time, hot and wet. He’s slow, savoring unlike that kiss in the elevator where he tried to eat me alive. “ _Moya,_ ” he says in whatever language it is he speaks, growling, lifting and spinning me around, pure joy on his face.

“Michael let’s go. We don’t need to be here anymore.”

“No more dancing?”

I shake my head and press another kiss to his lips.

“Come.”

He takes me by the hand and sweeps me out of the club.

**Author's Note:**

> Places to find Mock: 
> 
> [INSTAGRAM](https://www.instagram.com/mockingbird_publications/)
> 
> [TUMBLR](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/therealmissmock)
> 
> [MY BLOG](https://dmockingbirds.com/2021/02/06/eyes-and-xavier/)


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